Mutatis Mutandis
by Artemis's Liege
Summary: Forced to attend Xavier's Academy, Anna Marie decides she might as well accept Ms. Marvel's abilities for her own, but she gets distracted. Just who exactly is this "Kitty Pryde"?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: X-Men and all of their characters belong to Marvel. I am not making any money from this page.

A/N: This story takes place in the "X-Men: Misfits" universe.

The views and opinions expressed in this story do not correlate with the views and opinions of Artemis's Liege.

Kudos to anyone who can spot the "Glee" quote.

* * *

Not very much ever really irked Raven Darkholme. She was not a serene person by nature, but she possessed the ability to remain levelheaded under any circumstances and cope with any situation. These attributes had most definitely aided her in the achievement of her position as the Deputy Director of the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency.

A highly professional but cunning operative, Raven was both intelligent and calculative, as exhibited by her adroit management of her department.

Raven always made certain to display her qualifications for her position in her outward appearance. She firmly believed that everyone should be able to recognize that she was at the top of the department just by glancing at her.

A naturally gorgeous woman, she only wore just enough cosmetics to draw even more attention to her lovely face. At the moment, she sported an immaculately cut, navy suit, the skirt's length barely sufficient to be called proper, with an ivory, silk shirt beneath the jacket, the neckline just high enough to avoid looking unprofessional. Her sleek, black hair was elegantly bound at the back of her head to bare the slender lines of her throat.

Her accomplishments were renowned throughout the United States Department of Defense. There were no obstacles that she could not overcome, no barriers that could blockade her from achieving her goals, and no ties that could limit her actions.

If only her duty as a parent could have the same success as her career.

As the six-passenger, black, Cadillac limousine pulled into the long, winding driveway of Xavier's Academy for Gifted Youngsters, Raven focused on her fourteen-year-old daughter, who had maintained a sullen silence during the ride from the airport.

"Anna," she said, her cultured voice perfectly pitched. "We're at your school."

"'Xavier's Academy for Gifted Youngsters'?" Anna skeptically read from the sign. "That name sounds like it's from the fifties. Did we stop by the Frankenstein place? Did we do the time warp? Again?"

"I'm not going to indulge you, Anna," Raven warned her. "Now that this is your school-"

"My school is Madame DuPont's Preparatory School for Girls in Virginia," Anna returned, her tone cavalier. " My best friend, Jeanne-Marie, also attends. Perhaps you've heard of it."

"This is your school now," Raven replied, gesturing to the Academy outside the tinted window of the limousine.

"No, this is the school you decided I was going to attend," Anna argued calmly. "And you had Jason telepathically convince my father to send me here. He also thought that you were Jean Grey when you arrived at our house to bring me to the airport."

Raven grimaced. "Anna, I know you have reservations about this school, but I have always tried to do what's best for you. I adopted you as my daughter all those years ago because I thought you needed a mother, because yours was absent and your father was too busy managing his corporation."

"I know that, Raven, and I appreciate that, I sincerely do," Anna said. "And staying you and Irene during the summer when my boarding school finished for the year are the best memories of my childhood, believe me. But this school is going to do nothing for me."

"On the contrary," Raven's blue eyes met her daughter's green gaze. "I know that after working with Mastermind, you can now control your mutant abilities, but frankly, the incident with Ms. Marvel still concerns me."

Anna stiffened. "So this is a punishment for that? Raven, I had no idea that my abilities would leave her comatose. I never intended-"

"I realize that, but it doesn't change what happened." Raven resisted the urge to rub her temples. "You're too much of an abnormality to remain at a civilian school, let alone that boarding school. Someone will notice, and that will only lead to trouble for your biological family. Erik and Charles are two of my oldest friends. They'll teach how refine your mutation, and cope with the abilities you gained from Ms. Marvel."

"I'm coping just fine," Anna insisted. "Jason purged all of her memories from my brain; he just wasn't able to erase her abilities."

"You'll learn to put those abilities to good use," Raven assured her as the limousine slowed to a halt in front the Academy. She spotted two acquaintances of hers: Henry McCoy and Ororo Munroe. Undoubtedly, the reason the X-Men were standing outside was because they were waiting for Anna.

"Goodbye, Anna," Raven said.

"Wait a minute." Anna stared at her, disbelief settling upon her beautiful face in a rare show of genuine emotion. "Seriously? That's it? You're just going to drop me off in front of the building and then leave?"

"What else would I do?" Raven asked sensibly. "If I were to remain any longer I would just prolong your distress upon my departure, and there's nothing more for me to do here. After all, your belongings have already been shipped and their arrival has been confirmed. All of your luggage is waiting for you in dormitory."

"Luggage is something I barely need, now that I'm required to wear this uniform that looks like the fantasy of a perverted Japanese businessman with a very dark, specific fetish," Anna responded sardonically.

"I'm losing patience with you, Anna. For the love of God, it's not as if you'll be the only girl there. That was someone else," Raven responded, irritation creeping into her tone.

"That's something else I don't like about this arrangement." Anna brushed back a strand of rich, auburn hair behind her ear. The foremost locks of her long hair had been dyed white on both sides her head, and at the moment, Anna wore her hair down, swept back on one side and then fastened with simple, but tasteful, vintage hairclip adorned with small, metal leaves. Although Raven did not approve of the white streaks, she was willing to admit that the unconventional hairstyle did not detract from Anna's attractiveness, and brought out the flare of green in her eyes.

"Besides the teachers, there's only going to be one other girl at this school. All of the other students are boys," Anna said unenthusiastically. "And she's going to be my roommate."

"I'm sure the two of you will be friends," Raven assured, not allowing her exasperation to show. "I spoke to Erik about her, and she sounds like a very nice young woman. Her name is Kitty Pryde, and she's also a sophomore."

"'Kitty Pryde,'" Anna scoffed. "You see, Raven, when I first say that name, it inspires the idea of a confident and resourceful young woman. But then I consider the circumstances: one girl at an all boys' school. Then, I think of a strong, independent, young woman transforming into a vapid, lovelorn fool for sake of an American caricature of a reverse-harem, shoujo manga with poor illustrations and a truly unremarkable and cliche storyline. And in the end, all of this is merely a weak, but barefaced attempt of a comic book industry to cash in on the popularity of manga and anime in the U.S. and generate female interest in comics to increase sales."

"Now you're just being ridiculous, Anna," Raven dismissed her. "Get out of the car and go meet your teachers."

"I'm not getting out of the car."

"What?" Raven demanded. "Stop this infantile behavior this instant, young lady. I am not going to stand for this attitude."

"And I an not going to stand to be shipped off to some boarding school like a piece of baggage," Anna responded in a level tone.

"Anna, leave the car," Raven ordered her daughter.

"I am not going to exit this vehicle," Anna affirmed.

Raven placed a palm on her temple to alleviate her growing headache. "Must you insist on being recalcitrant?"

"If that's what it takes to avoid this school," Anna said, shrugging. "And if you don't want me to attend a regular school, why can't I just stay with Irene, Doug, and the rest of the Brotherhood at our headquarters?"

"Arclight and Sunfire will be leaving shortly on a mission to Japan. Juggernaut and the Scarlet Witch will be doing recon, as will Blink and the Kleinstocks. I have another mission prepared for Vanisher and Blindspot. Mercury, Polaris, Destiny, Doug, and Avalanche will come with me to establish a new headquarters." Raven eyed her daughter speculatively.

Anna frowned. "Why are we moving headquarters?"

"Because of you," Raven informed her coolly.

The quizzical expression barely settled upon Anna's face before vanishing, replaced by an utterly blank look. A minute passed in silence, Raven watching expectantly as Anna sat unmoving, not even blinking.

Eventually, awareness returned to her face, and Anna shook her head slightly, as if trying to clear cobwebs from her brain.

"Goodbye, Anna dear," Raven said softly.

"'Bye, Raven," Anna replied tonelessly, opening the door of the limousine and stepping outside.

The door slammed shut, and Raven watched as her daughter mounted the steps to the Xavier Academy. The limousine began moving once again, leaving the school behind, and Anna with it.

"Thank you, Jason," Raven said as the black, glass divider between the passenger section and the driver's seat lowered.

"Not a problem," Jason Wyngarde assured her, keeping his eyes focused on the road. "Do you think the X-Men will discover who she really is?"

"Doubtful," Raven replied, smirking. "Erik and Charles know nothing of my secret identity as Mystique, and with Rogue's memories of the Brotherhood erased for the moment, they won't be able find a trace of us."

"A sleeper agent who doesn't even realize that she is such," Jason mused. "Ingenious. And of course, Anna is the X-Men's rogue, but they're clueless about her true purpose for attending the school."

"You know, Jason," Raven said. "I have a feeling that Rogue is going to do very well at Xavier's Academy."

* * *

*Dramatic music begins to play*

Let me know if you have any questions or nitpicks with this story.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, who, coincidentially, belong to Marvel.

A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed! Also, I will probably be switching this story to the "X-Men: Misfits" category, which I had not realized existed. Just to let anyone who's interested in following this story know.

And I have to say, I did NOT like Beast's redesign in the manga. Not at all. So I picture him as drawn by John Cassaday, because I think that John is one of the best, if not the best X-Men artist where Beast's character illustration in concerned. I don't even care that John's Beast is not manga-style. See Beast's entry on Wikipedia for an illustration.

The views and opinions expressed in the story content do not correlate with the views and opinions of Artemis's Liege.

* * *

Why had she even gotten out of the car in the first place? She should've just stuck it out and remained in the car; it was better than actually going through with this ludicrous idea. Anna couldn't prevent herself from wondering what she was thinking as she heard the limousine start its engine and pull away, leaving her to her unlucky fate at Xavier's Academy.

This was an all-around terrible scenario. Her aunt Raven had withdrawn her from the Virginian boarding school, exclusively for girls, that she had attended since she was eight, and dropped her off at a place where not only she didn't know anyone, but was mostly populated by boys.

_Ugh. Degenerates._

She paused before mounting the steps to meet the two people who were waiting for her, presumably teachers. As much as she wanted to turn and watch the car until it faded into the distance, she knew that such a melancholic display would cement her in the teachers' minds as a lost, homesick, little girl. They would look at her with pity on their faces; they would assume she needed support and guidance in order to find her way at Xavier's Academy.

Anna didn't want anyone showing her the way, unless it was the way to get the hell away from here.

Inwardly steeling herself for the inevitable interaction with adult authority figures, Anna slowly but regally ascended the stone steps that led to the building, silently cursing whatever sick, twisted person had designed the skirt of her uniform.

When she realized the direction of her train of thought, she immediately rerouted to focus on how to establish her reputation at this school, so everyone would know that she was Anna Marie Keller, a name synonymous with the terms 'cold-hearted' and 'self-centered.' She had her priorities, after all.

There was no way she was going to let herself be viewed as some random sex object for the male students. She was going to show the staff and student body that she might have been alone, but she could do just fine (and better) without anyone there to help her.

But that meant she would actually have to pretend to care about the happenings of Xavier's Academy, a façade that would hardly be worth the effort.

_Damn_.

Simply put, Anna knew she didn't belong at Xavier's Academy, mutant or not. From what Raven had told her, this was some sort of place for mutants to learn to use their powers for the benefit of others. To control their powers so humans would learn that mutants were trustworthy people, not villainous monsters.

But why did it always have to be about other people? For once in her life, why couldn't it be about her?

_But maybe Raven has a point,_ a nasty voice whispered inside her head. _After all, if you had been able to control your abilities, Carol Danvers wouldn't be comatose, now would she?_

A scowl descended onto Anna's features the moment before she realized the two teachers waiting for her had been watching her the entire time.

Well, wonderful. No better time to make a reputation for herself as a reckless delinquent than her first introduction to the teaching staff. Anna stood and stared at them challengingly, not moving.

The two teachers exchanged a glance, and walked over to Anna to close the gap between them. Careful not to allow her scowl to dissipate, Anna studied the both of them.

The first was a statuesque, African American woman, perhaps in her early to mid-twenties. Her hair was white as freshly fallen snow, and was cut into a spiky mohawk that exposed the front three-fourths of her scalp, with the remaining portion of her long tresses covering the lower part of her head and falling down her back.

The woman was dressed as if she had just parked her motorcycle after a night out at the bar; she wore skintight, dark jeans with a cropped, red tank top and a black, leather vest, accompanied by a belt with an '**X**' etched into the metal of the large, round buckle.

The second teacher was equal to the woman in height, but it was difficult to determine their gender, as they were covered in blue fur. Their footwear of choice gave no indication of their gender, as they wore no shoes, probably due to their large, clawed feet.

Anna assumed that the teacher was male, if only because the suit he wore had pants and a tie, and his feline features appeared masculine, as did the pince-nez reposing over alert, yellow eyes. He had a broad, muscular build, but his overall appearance was somewhat reminiscent of a cat.

During their approach, Anna refused to take her eyes away from them, unwilling to display shyness or discomfort. Their expressions, she noted, were constructed to seem welcoming, but not overly friendly.

"Anna Keller?" The woman extended her hand, meeting Anna's eyes with a surprisingly blue gaze that complemented her striking features.

"Well, if I'm not her, then the police are going be after me for stealing her identity," Anna replied coolly.

Faint bemusement flashed across the woman's face, but she quickly recovered. "Welcome to Xavier's Academy for Gifted Youngsters, Anna."

"Anna Marie, if you please." Outside of family, only those exceptionally close to her referred to her as simply 'Anna.'

She could see some tension in the woman's shoulders, now, and she took the time to internally congratulate herself. Upsetting these people was almost too easy. Maybe she would have some fun here.

"It's nice to meet you, Anna Marie." The woman smiled, and Anna was mildly impressed that she managed to appear sincere in spite of her annoyance. "I am Ms. Munroe, and I teach environmental science here at the Institute." Munroe offered her hand to Anna.

Refusing to even glance down at the extended hand that Munroe intended for her to shake, Anna kept her cold gaze locked on to hers. For a moment, Munroe merely searchingly studied Anna's face before she withdrew her hand. Inwardly, Anna smirked, reveling in her juvenile snub and ignoring the twinge of guilt she felt at her own immaturity.

_Anna 1, Munroe 0_.

Munroe fell back, and the other teacher stepped forward.

"And I am Dr. Henry McCoy, teacher of mathematics," he said. "Believe me when I say that I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Anna Marie." He offered her a friendly smile that consisted of sharp canines, but it was so genuine and friendly that Anna was tempted to smile in return. However, she could only wonder why someone with a doctorate would waste their time as a mere schoolteacher.

Luckily for her, he seemed to have gotten the message from her interaction with Munroe, and did not proffer a handshake.

"Your luggage has already been delivered to your room," Munroe informed her. "We will show you to the headmaster's office."

"Why not?" Anna said carelessly.

"This way, then." McCoy gestured with his arm, and the three of them began to walk towards to the building. The teachers positioned themselves so Munroe was on her right and McCoy was on her left, forcibly bringing the image of prison guards flanking convicts to mind.

The trio entered the building through the immense, oak doors, walking into an open, lobby-like area. The gleaming, white walls stood out in contrast to the dark, mahogany accents and ceiling, and a tall, stone fountain with a wide, shallow pool of water underneath it burbled gently in the center of the room. Lofty, sizeable windows with Persian blue, silk curtains were perched high on the walls to allow a considerable amount of sunlight into the building, and thus eliminated the need for bright lights. This, combined with the simple décor, created a serene and calming atmosphere.

Munroe led them over to the right side of the room, her high-heeled boots click-clacking on the ivory and cobalt, marble tiles. A thick, plush carpet lined the floor where a dark-skinned, pretty young woman sat working at ornamental, carved desk.

"Good afternoon, Monet," Munroe greeted the woman.

"Ms. Munroe and Dr. McCoy." The woman smiled at them both. Although it might just have been her anxiety, Anna thought the smile had an element of wiliness hidden beneath its geniality. Her gaze shifted to Anna. "And this must be our newest student."

"Hello," Anna said, doing her best to convey her bad attitude in a single word, and in her opinion, succeeding.

"Hello Anna," the woman said. "I am Monet St. Croix."

"It's Anna Marie, and I never introduced myself."

The woman's smile grew wider. "You don't need to."

Anna studied her for several moments, wondering how this woman could possibly know her name, and an awkward silence fell.

McCoy cleared his throat. "Monet, if you don't mind, could you give Anna her timetable, I.D. card, and a copy of the student handbook, please?"

Monet rose and walked over to a filing cabinet, pulled open a drawer, and removed a piece of paper. Anna watched the woman closely, but was interrupted by Munroe.

"Once you have your copy of the handbook, you'd do well to read the rules, especially those pertaining to the dress code." Munroe cast a disdainful glance at Anna's legs, clad in black leggings patterned with thin, silver crisscrosses down the front. She didn't seem to like the mid-calf, black boots lined with silver buckles on the outer sides any better. "I'm not going to give you a detention on your first day, but next time I will not go so easy on you."

"Lucky me," Anna returned tonelessly.

Munroe sent a sharp look in her direction, but Monet cut off any response from the woman.

"Here is your schedule for classes, and your student handbook. This handbook contains the school rules and policies." Monet held out a miniature, bound book and a single sheet of paper, displaying immaculate, manicured fingernails with French tips.

Anna was reminded of her own adorned cuticles, and grimaced as she realized the dark purple polish was beginning to chip away. She had painted her nails when she was with . . . when she was with . . .

She frowned as she accepted the objects from Monet, trying to remember. When had she painted her fingernails? Certainly not while at Madame DuPont's Preparatory School for Girls. Students hadn't been permitted to wear cosmetics at all there; the nuns had ascertained with a practically obsessive vigilance that no one wore even jewelry unless it was a symbol of the Catholic religion. So when . . . ?

"Anna Marie is supposed to meet with the headmaster," Munroe informed Monet. "Is he free right now?"

There was a momentary pause as Monet assumed an expression of concentration. Perplexed, Anna glanced questioningly from Munroe to McCoy. What was Monet doing?

The bright smile returned to Monet's face. "Yes. Anna, the headmaster is waiting for you in his office." She indicated a carved, mahogany door a few feet to the left of her desk.

"I would greatly prefer if you addressed me as 'Anna Marie,'" Anna replied stonily.

"Just _go_," Munroe ordered, gesticulating to the door with a pointed finger.

Smirking at the woman's irritation, Anna turned on her heel and strode to the door, all the while preparing herself to meet the man who she was supposed to admire and respect during her time at this wretched school.

_Yeah, right. As if that's ever going to happen._

Without fanfare, she yanked open the door, entered, and closed it behind her, shutting Monet, McCoy and Munroe out, but isolating herself inside in the process.

* * *

Any constructive criticism would be appreciated. Reviews are always nice, too.

And yeah, if it seems Anna- oh, excuse me, _Anna Marie _is acting somewhat immature, it's the situation that really bothers her. More on that in the next few chapters.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Here we are, back with another exciting chapter. In this next enthralling installment of the story, our heroine, Anna- oh, my bad, _Anna Marie_, questions authority and overall, displays a bad attitude! But does she have what it takes to be a character in a fanfic about a horribly-written comic-based manga book that destroyed the charm and appeal of its other characters, including Kitty Pryde, the not-so-courageous protagonist? We shall see folks, we shall see.

(I just reread "X-Men: Misfits," and I was apalled by Kitty's personality revision. Seriously, there was absolutely not a single admireable or even likeable trait to be found in her character. She retained none of the intelligence or spunk of her comic book incarnation. Maybe we'll find out that it was a Skrull?)

Just picture Emma and Jean (Yes, they are in this chapter) drawn by John Cassaday. Professor X, too. You know what? Just picture everyone drawn by John Cassaday. Yeah, I don't even really care that he's not a manga artist. In my opinion, he draws the best Beast by far.

Continuity issues: In the manga, Colossus, Beast, Professor X, Jean, Storm, and Magneto were the only teachers at the school. I have expanded the teaching staff, because there is no way that there's only six teachers at a school for super-powered teenagers. Writers cannot do math, I guess.

And last but not least, thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapters. It's always great to hear feedback.

The views and opinions expressed in the story content do not correlate with the views and opinions of Artemis's Liege.

* * *

After walking through the door, Anna found herself in a wide passageway, a lavish, crimson rug beneath her combat boots. European-style, glass ceiling lamps illuminated the windowless, mahogany-paneled walls.

The hall led down to yet another door, and Anna sighed exasperatedly at the ostentation. Honestly, people were so pretentious these days.

Glancing around the passage, Anna noticed that pictures hung on the right wall slightly further down.

Unable to curb her curiosity, Anna halted in front of the wall to scrutinize the many pictures. Set in gold-gilt frames, she had initially mistaken the photographs for paintings instead of formal portraits.

And judging by one of the portraits that contained biker-woman Munroe, these were fairly recent shots. Anna's lip curled in disdain, wondering if Munroe had a single ounce of professionalism in her body, freedom of self-expression aside. For God's sake, she was a grown woman and a teacher, not a member of a motorcycle gang. Raven was a career woman, and she had never dressed like that . . .

When rolling her eyes grew tedious, Anna skeptically perused the other photos. One frame contained a vaguely familiar man wearing pince-nez. His smile nagged at Anna's memory, but she was unable to place a name with the face. She moved on to a photo of a very pretty, green-eyed woman with luscious, red hair and couldn't recognize her at all.

Shifting her gaze, Anna noticed that a decorative banner hung above the meticulously arranged portraits. Draped just so on the wall, the wide piece of white silk cloth had been carefully stitched with the words, "_Mutatis mutandis_" in large, navy blue letters. Incredulously, Anna wondered what it could possibly mean. Shaking her head in annoyance with the school she hadn't even attended for fifteen minutes but already found to be so pompous, she returned to the framed portraits.

Just as she was looking at a photo of a younger man with clear, blue eyes, black hair, and a strong jaw, Anna shuddered, suddenly overcome with chills. She crossed her arms over her chest, and glanced around the hallway. There was no one else but her, but she was unable to shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

Her eyes landed on the portraits again, and it seemed as if the occupant of each frame was staring back at her, warning her away. A great feeling of unease suddenly struck Anna, and she was tempted to sprint back down the hall and out of the school, to get away as fast as possible.

_This is ridiculous. Grow up, this isn't the time for you to be scared. _

Inhaling deeply, Anna forcibly calmed herself. She had to meet the headmaster, whoever he was, and she certainly was not going to give the impression of a hysterical, little girl. He had probably gotten enough of that from the first female student, anyway.

She continued to the door, noting the decorative, wooden frame, which was once again polished mahogany. She wondered what environmentalist Munroe had to say about the headmaster ordering an entire forest of trees chopped down just to decorate his school.

Anna placed her hand on the crystal doorknob, but then wondered if she ought to knock. Certainly, it was the polite thing to do, but she wasn't so sure she wanted to be seen as "polite" in this situation.

She needn't have worried at all, because a voice called, "Come in," and she complied.

While she had attended Madame DuPont's Preparatory School for Girls, Anna had done everything she could to avoid being sent to the headmistress's office, who in that case, had also been the mother superior of the congregation of nuns. Reverend Mother Mary Bernadette did her best to follow the example set by the school's founder and first headmistress: Thérèse Marguerite DuPont. Despite not being a nun herself, DuPont had been a highly religious woman, enough of one that she started a Catholic boarding school for girls so they could "have a haven to resist temptation and become closer to the Lord."

Of course, Reverend Mother Mary Bernadette had found Madame DuPont to be an exemplary, shining star of a headmistress, and encouraged the nuns and other teachers to follow her disciplinary methods, which were primarily public humiliation and corporeal punishment.

Whenever a student had been called to the headmistress's office, she had known that she was in for a world of hurt. The office, as Anna remembered it, had been very sparse, with no decoration other than a massive crucifix hanging on the back wall, perhaps as a reminder to students what could become of them if they sufficiently enraged the Mother Superior.

This headmaster's office (What had Raven said his name was? Charles?) was totally different. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all polished mahogany, set off by a thick Oriental rug and matching curtains. Two tall shelves lined with tidily arranged, leather-bound books and exquisite and expensive-looking ornaments sat directly opposite one another on the left and right side of the room. Elegant ceiling lamps illumined the large room, as did the two open windows that looked out onto a small courtyard filled with flowerbeds, enclosed by brick walls draped with climbing roses. Anna frowned, wondering why the roses were still in full bloom in mid-October, but then shrugged. It wasn't her problem; she really didn't have much of a reason to care.

A gentleman about her father's age sat behind the ornate desk close to the back of the room. He rose from his high-backed, black, leather chair as Anna walked into the room, and stepped forward to shake her hand.

"Anna Marie Keller." The man offered her a smile, and for the first time that day, Anna engaged in a handshake, although she mentally rolled her eyes at herself for her actions. "I'm Charles Xavier."

"I've heard many complimentary words about you from my aunt," Anna said, her tone neutral. The man appeared to be pleasant, but she had seen many initially nice people transform into rampaging monsters of bad temper right before her very eyes. She remained undecided about whether she wanted to irk the headmaster of her new school. Which was fine with her; she had plenty of time to buck the system later, if necessary.

The man chuckled. "Sit down," he said, doing so. "Of course, knowing Raven, she probably has just as many complaints as she does compliments."

"When I'm around her, most of her complaints are about me," Anna replied, deliberately keeping a jocular tone to her voice.

"It was your aunt who arranged for you to come here, wasn't it?" Xavier questioned pleasantly.

"Yes. I attended Madame DuPont's Preparatory School for Girls before I transferred," Anna said.

"Quite an academically rigorous school," Xavier noted. "I looked over your records, and your grades were very impressive. Well done, Ms. Keller."

_Hey, if you went to a school with nuns ready, willing, and able to beat the living hell out of you with a ruler because of a low test score, I think you'd try to do everything in your power to avoid that, too, _Anna mentally scorned.

Xavier's eyebrows rose, and Anna had to think a few seconds before she ascertained that she hadn't spoken out loud. A moment passed in silence.

"Would you mind if I asked you a few questions about your family situation?" Xavier inquired politely.

"Not at all," Anna said carefully. "Go ahead."

"I couldn't help but notice from looking over the papers that Raven gave to me that she and your father share joint legal custody of you," Xavier stated.

"It's a complicated situation," Anna said, weighing her response, but keeping her tone light. "Raven lives in Virginia, and I attended DuPont's Prep, which was also in Virginia. When I started at the school, my father decided that as a precaution, it would be wise to have Raven appointed as one of my legal guardians because she was closer than him, and she would be there in case of an emergency."

Xavier gave her a slight nod, but Anna could not judge its significance.

"And Raven is your aunt?" He asked.

"She was my mother's younger half-sister," Anna replied. "They had the same mother, but different fathers. When my mother . . . left, Raven made an effort to keep in contact with my father so she could have a say in the upbringing of my brother and I. We've always used my mother's maiden name when attending school to avoid any problems that association with my father might cause."

"You've attended Madame DuPont's Preparatory School for your entire education?" Xavier's brown gaze studied her, as if attempting to discern her thoughts.

Warily, Anna constructed a small smile on her lips, uncertain about what this man expected from her. "I've attended since I was eight years old. I was privately tutored previously to that."

Xavier frowned slightly. "That's a very young age to be so far away from your family," he noted levelly.

"It was going to happen some point or another," Anna returned indifferently. "And since it was inevitable, it might as well happened while I was young so I could adjust."

For a moment Xavier seemed as if he was going to reply, but then his gaze slid past Anna to the door. "Ms. Keller, I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut our meeting short and reschedule for another time," he stated abruptly. "Ms. Munroe is waiting for you, and she will show you to your room."

Before Anna had the opportunity to reply, the door to Xavier's study swung open.

"Charles, it is imperative that we speak with you immediately," declared a woman who sashayed inside, her words accompanied by a refined British accent. Another woman who appeared to be the same age, early to mid-twenties, closely followed her into the study.

The British woman had long, blonde hair, icy blue eyes, and an incredibly beautiful face. She was dressed entirely in gleaming white, from her elegant choker necklace to her high-heeled, stylish boots. The form-fitting bustier she wore beneath her tailored suit jacket showcased her tight waist and barely contained her considerable cleavage. Impressed, Anna observed that this woman was almost as equally pale as herself. Such an alabaster complexion was no simple feat to maintain.

The second woman was equally pretty, but her appeal was softer, quieter. She was slim, dressed fashionably without appearing over the top, with dark brown dress pants and a silk scarf tied around her neck. The cashmere, moss green sweater she wore brought out her eyes and smooth, red hair, complimenting her peaches and cream complexion. Almost immediately, Anna recognized the woman from one of the picture frames in the hall. When the woman noticed Anna's stare, she offered her a friendly smile. In return, Anna very generously raised her hand in a stationary wave.

The British woman noticed Anna. "A new student, Charles? Our first girl in almost half a decade?"

Xavier smiled. "Our second girl, actually. Our first girl in several years arrived just a few weeks ago." The smile disappeared. "You've brought news?"

"Of course," the blonde bombshell returned. She glanced at Anna with an arched eyebrow. "But this needs to be a private conversation, Charles."

Xavier nodded in agreement. "Of course. Ms. Keller, I apologize for the inconvenience, but I am afraid that I must ask you to go meet Ms. Munroe."

Anna stood from her chair, careful to keep her face expressionless. "That's fine. But would you mind if I asked you one question before I leave?"

"That's fine," Xavier said.

"Is there any way I could get a school uniform that doesn't make me look like a bait girl from _To Catch a Predator_?" Anna quirked an eyebrow, allowing her inquisitive expression to balance her deadpan tone.

The gazes of the three adults in the room came to rest upon her, in the several seconds of silence passed before the British blonde broke the quiet.

"Well, at least she has somewhat of a personality, if not a very likeable one. If she subscribes to Magneto's view of mutant philosophy, perhaps her name can be 'Negasonic Teenage Warhead.'"

"I'll see you at our next meeting, Ms. Keller," Xavier said. "Welcome to your new school. I hope you'll enjoy yourself."

_And I hope that I don't have to wear this damn uniform, but judging from your response, that's not very likely._

When she turned and strode to the door, Anna noticed the expressions of the two women. Red just gave her a look of puzzlement peppered with uncertainty, but Blondie the Brit's glacier blue eyes zeroed in on Anna, calculation and cunning in her stare. As she closed the carved, wooden door behind her on her way out, Anna felt a mixture of irritation at the interruption and relief that she no longer had to remain in the presence of the three adults.

Frustration with the unprofessional management of the meeting aside, Anna couldn't help but be slightly curious about the situation that was apparently so urgent it demanded Xavier's undivided attention.

_Maybe someone's going to be expelled_, Anna speculated cynically. _Perhaps they didn't meet the standards required to be a perfect example of a mutant who's beneficial to society. _

Once again, she paused at the wall of portraits, but this time it wasn't to study the depictions, but to send them all a withering glare. She had known that her time at this school was going to be a fiasco, but it was truly exasperating to watch Raven's plans for her collapse. Anna loved her aunt and wanted to impress her, but already this Xavier's Academy was making her stay more arduous than it should have been.

Exiting the passageway, Anna spotted Munroe waiting for her by Monet's desk. Neither Monet nor McCoy were anywhere in sight.

"Where's McCoy?" Anna questioned, very aware that her tone was careless and implied that she had no true interest in McCoy's whereabouts.

"That's 'Dr. McCoy' to you," Munroe responded admonishingly. "And it's really no concern of yours where he is."

Doing her best to catch the other woman off guard and make her uncomfortable, Anna chose to forgo a reply in favor of staring at Munroe blankly.

But rather than growing unnerved by Anna's empty gaze, Munroe merely sent an impatient look in her direction. "Come," she said, turning her back on Anna and walking away. "I'll show you to your dormitory."

Scowling at Munroe's leather-clad back, Anna did not move for several seconds. It looked as if it might take some work to show Munroe that she was not a force that could easily be controlled.

Oh, well. Irking this woman was enjoyable, judging by the looks of it, would be the only bright spot in Anna's day at Xavier's Academy. At least if Anna had to be miserable here, she could antagonize others until they were just as unhappy.

Smirking, Anna had already begun to devise methods to annoy Munroe by the time she caught up with the other woman.

* * *

A/N: Rogue was not Roman Catholic in the comics, in fact, in the Ultimate universe, she was a Baptist. But I wanted to use a canonical school, and with the strict discipline at her school, this also partially explains her rebellious attitude and her distrust of authority. (Plus, it's fun to write about nuns in their strict glory.)

I'm not very familiar with the Catholic religion, so please just let me know if I make any mistakes. Her connections to DuPont's Prep will become important later on in the story.

(Also, I have added the word "preparatory" to "Madame DuPont's School For Girls," so it is now "Madame DuPont's Preparatory School For Girls" in an attempt to make it sound less generic, more authentic, and more American. In the comics, the school was Canadian.)

I'm sorry to say this, but the next couple of chapters won't be exceedingly interesting, just necessary stuff like Anna settling in and meeting Kitty and other students. Well, maybe the latter will be a bit fun. We'll see.

Peace out!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: The X-Men still belong to Marvel. I am not making any profit from this page.

**Warning**: Mentions of Justin Bieber.

The views and opinions expressed in the story content do not correlate with the views and opinions of Artemis's Liege.

* * *

The heavy door clicked shut behind the rather strange girl, and for a moment, the three adults in the room merely stared after her, nonplussed, the insincere question she had voiced hanging in the air, almost tangible.

"What a charming young woman," Emma Frost said, strolling over to the window and raising a sardonic eyebrow at the flowered scenery outside. "Tell me, is your other female student just as acerbic?"

"Decidedly not," Xavier replied. "She's much more reserved and reticent than the one you just encountered."

"How discouraging," Frost responded, her interest waning.

"We're not here to talk about the students, Emma," Jean Grey reminded her British compatriot. She turned to her friend and mentor. "We've met with Bolivar Trask in an attempt to stop him from creating the Sentinels. He refused to listen to us."

"Really. It makes you wonder why he bothered to meet with us in the first place," Frost commented.

"He doesn't see mutants as equals. He sees us as monsters that need to be controlled." Grey brushed a strand of brilliant, red hair back from her face. "But something strange occured while we were there."

"Our meeting with Trask was interrupted when he received an urgent phone call," Frost continued. "When he returned, he was severely agitated and ordered us to leave immediately. Of course, we glimpsed into his mind to see why he was so testy. It just so happens that the factory in Japan, which manufactured the parts for the Sentinels, was completely demolished overnight. Apparently, it was destroyed during an earthquake and then somehow became ablaze. But because of the hour it took place, there were no fatalities or injuries."

Xavier frowned. "How odd. Do they have any idea how this happened?"

"They think that the earthquake was just a natural disaster, and some machinery and electrical wires were dislodged, setting the place on fire," Grey responded in a skeptical tone. "I don't buy it. The circumstances seem too unlikely."

"We can't pull the wool over your eyes, can we, Jean?" Frost remarked drily, sending a cold smile in the redhead's direction.

Grey ignored her. "What's even more suspect was what happened to the Sentinel base here in the U.S., located in New Mexico. Implausible as it is, the base seems to have just disappeared overnight, leaving just an empty space where it previously stood. It's as if the base just ceased to exist."

Sighing, Xavier voiced his candidates for the instigators of the situation. "Mutants."

Frost shrugged elegantly. "Honestly. Who else? With the knowledge the all of the scientists and workers who had ever set foot in the building retained no memory of the Sentinel project, that's a forgone conclusion at this point."

"Was that the work of a telepath?" Xavier questioned, considering Frost with his eyes.

"I believe so," Grey returned. "We managed to obtain a list of scientists who were involved with the project," Grey went on. "We visited them in secret and searched through their minds for any hint of the Sentinel project. There was none. Whoever had erased their memories had done a smooth job. There were no fragmented memories or unfinished thoughts, just anything about the Sentinels gone, as if they had no part in it."

"So whoever is doing this is organized," Xavier mused. "They don't want mutants to be harmed or even controlled by the Sentinels. But so far, they haven't harmed anyone themselves."

"Unless you define washing away someone's memories as 'harm,'" Grey said coolly.

"For God's sake, grow up, Jean," Frost replied dismissively. She turned to Xavier, a cunning smile on her beautiful face. "So, Charles. Tell me all about these female students of yours."

* * *

The deeper Munroe took her into Xavier's Academy, the more the building reminded Anna of the castle from the _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets _movie, which she had once watched for all of five minutes. She had never actually read the books, as the nuns at DuPont's Prep had banned them from the school premises due to the misconception that the contents of the books advocated black magic. Frankly, Anna didn't care one way or the other; although she enjoyed reading on occasions, she often found it difficult to sit still and concentrate on text for long periods of time.

Munroe had started out by walking down the hall, out of the lobby, then turning right, before walking up a staircase. A few left and right turns later, Anna had no idea where they were or how they had gotten there, and was beginning to wonder if Munroe was taking her to be locked away in a dungeon somewhere.

Finally, Munroe stopped at a door, and slid a plastic card through a slot on the wall. There was a _click _as the electronic lock retracted, and Munroe smoothly pulled the door open.

"After you," she said politely.

Warily, Anna entered to find herself in a long, white hallway with numerous, dark doors on either side. Obviously, this was the girls' dormitory.

"Here." Munroe, who had walked up beside her, offered Anna a plastic card. "This is your dorm key. It will open the first door to the South Wing and the door to your dorm room. It won't open anything else, though, so don't bother."

Skeptically, Anna accepted the card. "Who lives in all of these rooms?"

"They're empty," Munroe replied, glancing at Anna expectantly.

"So if they're empty, why do I have to have a roommate? There's no logic in that at all- "

"If you have complaints, Anna Marie, I suggest you bring them up with the headmaster at your next meeting." Munroe cut Anna off mid-sentence, and there was an edge of impatience in her voice. "In the meantime, I suggest you unpack. Classes will let out for the day soon, and your roommate should be arriving shortly. There is a map of the school in your student handbook. All of your textbooks are in your locker, and the schedule I gave you has the number and combination. Dinner will start at six o'clock and end at seven o'clock. When you receive your meal, show your student I.D. card in lieu of payment. Breakfast tomorrow is from seven to seven forty-five. Of course, this is all on your schedule." Munroe turned to leave. "And Anna Marie, I hope you enjoy your time at Xavier's Academy." With a conclusive air, she walked out of the hallway, and bizarrely, a gust of wind seemed to slam door shut behind her.

Immensely annoyed by the woman's quick dismissal of her, Anna stared at the door from which Munroe had exited, before shaking her head in an attempt to allay her ever-rising irritation. She turned her attention to the dorms, the gears in her head turning. With Ms. Marvel's superhuman strength, it would be simple to rip the lock form out of the door, and just reside in a different dorm so she would've have to deal with a roommate.

But Raven had wanted her to try her best at this school. And Raven had always been kind to her. The least Anna could do for her was at least try to make the school work.

"Damn my conscience," Anna muttered.

But still, that didn't necessarily stop her from trying.

Anna jammed the plastic key card into the nearest door, but the light in the electronic lock blinked red, and the handle didn't give. She was very tempted to give into her anger and rip the handle from the door, but reluctantly dropped her hand, suppressing the uneasy feeling that settled in her stomach at the sight of the polish on her fingernails. With an exasperated sigh and a dramatic roll of her eyes, Anna removed the card, willing to accept defeat for now. She glanced at the number eight on her card, turned to the right side of the hall, and walked to her room, her footfalls muffled by the thick carpet.

She halted in front of her room, which was designated by the brass number eight fasted upon the door. Noticeably, the wood in the dormitory was much less fancy then the headmaster's office and the lobby, but Anna presumed the reason for the industrial material was because the administration was unwilling to install expensive doors only to have teenagers destroy them the very next day. Perhaps the adults at this school were more pragmatic then she had credited them.

Preparing herself for the worst, Anna squared her shoulders, pushed her key card into the slot, and cautiously entered the room.

White, twelve by nineteen foot walls greeted her as she stepped inside. In the farthest left corner, an empty dorm bed with a steel frame rested lengthwise against the far wall. The right corner opposite that contained a tall, oak chest of drawers, with a window sitting just next to it, to the left. Another door was built into the right wall.

Anna let the door shut behind her as she walked further inside. The room was no smaller than her dorm at DuPont's Preparatory had been.

"Maybe this roommate thing won't suck as much as I thought," Anna said out loud. She turned to survey the rest of the room.

_I spoke too soon. Dammit._

Anna could see another dorm bed sitting lengthwise by the left wall, in the near left corner with its headboard against the near wall. The foot of the bed was positioned just before the closet, of which one of the sliding doors had been left ajar. A joint wooden desk, designed to seat two people, was pushed alongside the right wall.

But it wasn't the furniture itself that drew Anna's gaze of total horror. No, it was the decoration of that area of the room that brought her feelings of both irritation and nausea.

The coverlet and pillowcase of the neatly made bed depicted a scene of what was apparently a sunset over a beach, if the silhouettes of palm trees were anything to judge by. Of course, due to the sunset, the colors of the fabric were various hues of pink and purple, besides the black outline of the palm trees.

Vibrant ribbons and tissue paper flowers complete with pipe-cleaner stems adorned the bed's stainless steel framework, winding in and out of the metal posts. The wall above the head of the bed frame had been embellished with glow-in-the-dark stars and planets and a large, beaded dreamcatcher. Evidently, the overly enthusiastic interior decorator had felt as if the room's atmosphere did not elicit a suitably bewildered reaction from those who summoned up enough courage to venture inside, because in addition to the already rather odd decorations in her corner of the room, she had inexplicably decided to include a plush toy in the form of what appeared to be a somewhat pudgy, lavender dragon in the collection of beach-themed throw pillows on her bed.

Several posters had been tacked up on the wall alongside the bed; amongst those were portrayals of Justin Beiber, the Effiel Tower, Zac Effron, and a diabetes-inducing image of a kitten sitting on top of what seemed to be an enormous stiletto heel. Anna averted her eyes from the former as soon as possible in order to preserve her vision, and found the latter to be somewhat bizarre.

With a roll of her eyes, Anna's disgusted gaze traveled to the closet beside her roommate's bed. One of the doors had been pushed back and then left open, revealing several school uniforms and pastel-colored clothes hanging inside, accompanied by several pairs of shoes methodically ordered on a metal wire rack.

Next, her eyes found the chest of drawers, the top of which had been covered with a white doily, upon which a flowered jewelry box rested. A baby blue teddy bear sat beside the box, as if guarding its contents. A large, pink message board was positioned aside the bear, the pale yellow ribbons crisscrossing over the satin fabric, holding photos and drawings in place.

In an attempt to stop her eyeballs from permanent scarring due to overexposure to bright colors, Anna quickly looked over at the double desk that was situated between the entrance and the unfortunate sunset-style bed. The one half of the desk that was closest to the door had been left untouched. But a square, glittery, plastic pencil pot, filled with equally glittery gel pens, a multi-colored, polka-dotted notebook, and a vase that contained actual flowers occupied the side of the desk by the bed. Closer inspection of the desk revealed that numerous bottles of pastel nail polish, some with sparkles, also rested upon its surface.

Forcing herself to take deep breaths to avoid hyperventilating, Anna turned her back on the lurid, migraine-inducing display of pastels, and focusing on her luggage, which had been placed at the foot of her bed.

"Oh, hell no," Anna muttered as she spotted the trunk.

It seemed that Bella, her twenty-seven-year-old stepmother who her father had married almost two years ago, had decided to pack for her. Although Anna did her best to appreciate the gesture, a coalescence of dread and irritation created an unpleasant feeling in her stomach. Bella was always not-so-subtly trying to push Anna to drop the blend of goth and steampunk and prance around in designer clothing just like she did. But whether it was because Bella's enthusiasm for such clothes had driven Anna to the opposite end of the fashion spectrum, or she just didn't like being told what to do, Anna could not bring herself to appreciate the expensive brand names as much as Bella.

To be honest, Anna preferred to mix and match her clothing to create her own style. Mostly, her clothing was black, with some indigo, blood red, dark violet and blue, or occasionally emerald green to complement her eyes. Anna had never really understood her peers at boarding school who adored designer brands, but had assumed that the others girls' mothers had taught them a lesson she had never learned, due to the absence of a maternal figure in her life, although she'd never dwelled on the subject for very long.

Most of her clothes were fairly casual, not that it made very much of a difference when she had attended boarding school and worn a uniform for nine months for the year. And thanks to Xavier's Academy, it seemed as if that trend was most likely to continue.

Thankfully, despite Bella's obsession with designer brands, it appeared that she had the good sense not to pack Anna's belongings in suitcases stamped with logos, and had instead selected a large, sturdy trunk with steel-reinforced sides, with similar materials for the other suitcases. However, the trunk was not totally nondescript; the plywood sides were a bright purple, and so were the fiberglass suitcases.

_Oh, Bella. So close to actually appearing competent_, Anna thought acidly, habitually ignoring the stab of guilt she felt as she realized that Bella was only trying to help her, and didn't deserve her insults.

But then again, for Bella, this display of proficiency was a large accomplishment. Making a mental note to congratulate her stepmother on her progressing foresight, Anna unzipped her left combat boot, removed the key that she had kept bandaged to the side of her ankle over her leggings, and unlocked the trunk.

Upon opening her trunk, Anna stared at the contents, and then grimaced. Shaking her head, she reluctantly stood, began ripping plastic packages open and making her bed, all the while doing her best to suppress her annoyance. When she had finished, Anna stood back to survey her work.

The comforter and linens Bella had shipped with her luggage were pink. Not just pink, but magenta, and bordered with huge roses in every shade of lurid pink imaginable, from nadeshiko to coral. The cashmere blanket, sheets, pillowcase, and lacy throw pillows were all matching, and just as equally pink and flowery.

Anna did her best to maintain a positive attitude as she tucked her silk sheets into hospital corners with practice, spread her comforter over her bed, and automatically arranged her pillows, as she had done for many years at boarding school.

But as she looked around the room, Anna could only think, _Bella's trying to kill me. I'm going to drown in pinkness._

No longer attempting to curb her inherent tendency of a bad attitude, Anna rolled her eyes and scowled in frustration, grinding her teeth to avoid spitting out every expletive she knew. She was just about to stalk across the room and assure herself that Bella hadn't sent her _all_ pastel designer clothes, and plan her vengeance if the situation warranted it, but was interrupted when the door to her room swung open.

A girl stood in the doorway, her eyes wide as she stared at Anna. She was petite, brunette with short hair cut into a pixie style, and looked utterly shaken to see Anna there.

"Oh my God!" She blurted, her heart-shaped face draining white, which was, Anna observed ungenerously, definitely not a good look for her. "Who are you?"

Tempted to snarl a vicious reply, Anna resisted the urge and flatly met the other girl's brown gaze. Struggling to keep her tone neutral, she said with a careless shrug, "I'm your roommate."

* * *

Oh, a cliffhanger. That twist would put M. Night Shyamalan to shame.

Many thanks to my reviewers, and a quick question- is Anna (Marie) being too much of a jerk here? I want her to be viewed as a teenager struggling to readjust and upset by the change in schools, but I don't want her to seem like a heinous bitch. Keep me updated if that ever happens.

Peace!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Marvel owns everything (except Anna's family, whom I made up to fit with all the weird, character family-related changes for the Misfits-verse. What can I say, non-conformism is easier said than done). No profit is produced from this page.

**A/N:** Thank you for all the reviews, and input for Anna's character. She is really unpleasant in this chapter, but she begins to shape up in the next one.

The views and opinions expressed in the story content do not correlate with the views and opinions of Artemis's Liege.

**To avoid any confusion, here is a format guide:**

_One word or an entire sentence in italics, like this. _Indicates Anna's thoughts.

"One word in a spoken sentence in italics, like _this_." Indicates specific emphasis on the italicized word.

A sentence followed by a number in parentheses, like this. (1) Indicates a footnote at the end of the chapter that will explain, usually the result of a circumstance in the story "X-Men: Misfits" that differs from the canonical X-Men stories.

**An entire section in bold, like this.** Indicates a letter, report, or note.

And coming up in the next few chapters:

"A spoken sentence followed by an asterisk in parentheses, like this." (*) Indicates actually dialogue spoken in the "X-Men: Misfits" book. Some of it must be read to be believed.

Hope I didn't bore you too much. On with the story!

* * *

For a moment, the two girls merely stared at one another in silence. Anna was careful to hold eye contact with her roommate, determined to show this girl that she didn't answer to anyone. But then the girl surprised Anna by laughing.

"Oh, that's right!" She said, chuckling, not noticing Anna's questioning expression. "Ms. Munroe told me that you would be arriving today. I guess I just forgot." She stepped fully inside the room and closed the door. A sense of crushing claustrophobia suddenly overwhelmed Anna as the girl walked forward with her hand outstretched. "I'm Kitty Pryde."

Without warning, loathing flooded through her, and Anna hated herself, her mutation and all of the residents at Xavier's Academy with such rancor that she unnerved even herslef. For a moment, pessimism dominated her thoughts, and the only emotion within her was total abhorrence for the situation that had brought her to this school, and everyone involved.

_Goddammit, Carol. If it wasn't for you and your inane heroics, I wouldn't be here . . . of course if it weren't for me, you'd still be okay . . . _

An expression of uncertainty settled upon Kitty's face, and as the raw hatred ebbed away as rapidly as it had come, Anna realized that she had been so absorbed in herself that she hadn't even thought to shake the girl's hand. Inwardly, she kicked herself, pricked by fiery thorns of shame, but there was no way in hell she was actually going to apologize to this girl.

_Pride goeth before the fall._

She really didn't have the patience for this. So instead saying sorry, she merely coldly repeated what the girl had told her. "Kitty."

Her face was already flushed with embarrassment, but Kitty's face grew even redder. "It's short for Katherine."

Ready to liberate the awkwardness in the room at any cost, no matter how rude she seemed, Anna shook her head slightly and turned her back on Kitty, ignoring the girl, as she walked back over to her luggage.

"So, um, what's your name?" Kitty asked after a few seconds' pause.

"Anna Marie Keller," Anna replied, not looking up from her trunk, although she could feel her cheeks burning at the awkwardness she caused. She pushed aside the plastic wrappings that had previously contained her bedspread, and spotted a letter with her name on it at the bottom of her trunk. She picked it up, and realized that it was in her father's signature stationary. More excited than she was comfortable with, she quickly ripped it open, and scanned the contents.

**Dear Anna Marie,**

**Congratulations on your admission to Xavier's Academy! That's one of the best schools in the country, and you exceeded on the entrance exam and essays. Your father and stepmother are both very proud of you. **

**Speaking of your stepmother, she's the one who packed for you. I offered to do so, but Isabella insisted, and bought several dozen outfits that she selected. Of course, I am aware that the two of you favor very different fashions, so I took the liberty of repacking for you with the clothing that already occupied your closet. Also, I have packed school supplies for the pursuit of your studies. Hopefully, they will suit your tastes. **

**Have fun at your school, but remember to study hard.**

**Best,**

**Hisako Ichiki**

**P.S. I feel obligated to apologize for that garish bedspread that Isabella sent you. To tell the truth, she was torn between two designs, both of which she was very fond, and agonized over which one she preferred for such a spell that I was unable to make the switch in time. But be grateful for what you have; the other motif, "Preppy Patchwork," was truly hideous.**

_Thank God for Hisako_, Anna thought gratefully, pushing aside the disappointment that settled over her when she realized that note wasn't from her father. She made a mental note to send Hisako the best bottle of wine she could find when Christmas came around.

Hisako Ichiki was the manager of her father's estate in Georgia. Anna remained unsure of where her father found Hisako, but the woman was in her mid-twenties, and had been with the family since Anna was a child. Capable, self-possessed, and amiable, Hisako was not quite a butler, but performed a similar role. She was the one who planned parties, scheduled social affairs, assessed the need for improvement upon the grounds, and called the mechanic when one of the cars wasn't properly functioning. Overall, Hisako did her job of managing the household staff of the estate exceptionally well, but with her no-nonsense personality, was an even better peacekeeper between Anna and her stepmother.

With a sigh of relief, Anna stood and carried one of her suitcases to the desk. Nimbly, her fingers worked the combination on her suitcase (616) and the steel locks on the fiberglass casing popped open.

"You're taller than I expected," remarked Kitty.

Anna glanced at her and quirked an eyebrow.

The other girl blushed. "I just meant . . . that you're tall. How tall are you?"

"Five nine," Anna replied brusquely. She removed a photo encased in a decorative glass and metal frame from her bag, and placed it carefully on the desk. The photo was of herself and her friends from her former boarding school, Jeanne-Marie, Idie, and Neena, who had also been her roommate at DuPont's Prep. In the picture, the four of them were dressed up for the ninth grade dance that had taken place last spring with the associate Catholic boys' school, St. Thomas Aquinas's Institute for Young Men.

"That's a really nice picture frame," Kitty said, walking up to join Anna by the desk. "Oh wow, you look so pretty in that photo!"

Once more, Anna found herself sending a measured look in Kitty's direction.

Kitty flushed again. "Oh, I don't mean to say that you don't look pretty now, because you do, it's just that in the picture you look prettier. I mean, you don't look _prettier_, Anna, just more- "

"Anna Marie," Anna interrupted.

Kitty stopped and looked at her. "What?"

"I prefer to be called 'Anna Marie,'" Anna responded with slight annoyance in her voice. Perhaps it was just her imagination, but she thought she could sense the beginnings of a headache.

"Okay," Kitty replied hesitantly. "Do you want any help unpacking, Anna Marie?"

"No, thank you," Anna said curtly. "But you can tell me which half of the closet is mine."

"How about the right half?" Kitty suggested. "The left half is closer to my bed, so it will all work out."

"Fine," Anna said carelessly. "You might as well decide which drawers I'm going to get, too." She gesticulated to the bureau.

Kitty seemed somewhat taken aback by Anna's audacity. She blinked, and then said, "If you want, we could alternate drawers. You could take the top one, then I could take the second one, and then you could take the-"

"No, I don't want to do that, because that's stupid and unnecessarily complicated," Anna snapped, feeling a spike of irritation. "I'll just take the bottom three drawers."

"Okay," Kitty said, seeming somewhat startled by Anna's harsh response. "I'll start moving my clothes."

"You do that," Anna said scornfully. God lord, this girl was spineless. She was so passive that she couldn't even stand up for herself.

Anna began removing items of clothing from her suitcase, hanging up her school uniforms in the closet first, then moving onto her shirts, jackets, and skirts, soon followed by several designer pantsuits bought by courtesy of Bella, a few dresses that could pass as both casual or formal, and a lone pair of khakis. She was careful to hang a long black V-neck dress right beside Kitty's clothes to indicate the boundary between their respective halves of the closet.

After several moments of debate, Anna filled her section of the bureau with underwear, pajamas, and legwear, designating one drawer for each. As she placed leggings, tights, and socks in her last empty drawer, Anna realized that she had no space left available for her casual clothing. With a sigh, Anna decided not bother unpacking her T-Shirts, jeans, and cargo pants. Those items would simply have to remain in the suitcase. It wasn't as if she would have the opportunity to wear them very often, though.

Footwear was an entirely different issue. The casual shoes would have to stay in the trunk. Daily-wear shoes, such as her rubber Adidas flip-flops for the shower, and her various pairs of black boots, however, would just have to remain on the floor of the closet. And of course, the ever-important cosmetics, a good portion sent by Bella, undoubtably purchased at Sephora, and the rest (Read: makeup a teenage girl would actually wear) won in illicit poker games at DuPont's Prep, also stayed in their Versace bag that she placed on top of her desk.

Finished unpacking, Anna stood back to survey her work, unable to suppress a feeling of pride, even though she knew that she had accomplished very little. But when looking around the room, Anna couldn't help but remember Neena Thurman, her former roommate, whose friendship she had enjoyed greatly. The two of them had often commiserated together for goth-inspired outfits and makeup, their own personal rebellion after spending so many years in Catholic schoolgirl uniforms.

She doubted if she could ever form such rapport rapport of camaraderie with this Kitty Pryde girl, who was currently seated at the desk, working on school assignments with her glittery, neon gel pens. Not exactly "rebel" material. A feeling of loneliness washed over Anna, and she instantly forced herself to think of something else. There was no way she was going to throw herself a pity party.

"Homesick?"

Anna turned to face Kitty, who had laid down her pen and was watching her. "I beg your pardon?" She asked, in a tone that implied she didn't beg for anything.

"Are you homesick?" The other girl clarified with a kind smile.

"No," Anna replied shortly. Then it occurred to her that this girl was attempting to be friendly, so she sat down on her chair and added, "I've been attending boarding school since I was eight."

"Wow," Kitty said, looking slightly impressed. "Why?"

"The same reason as everyone else who attends boarding school," Anna informed her, blasé. "My parents didn't want to take the time to raise me."

"So I guess you're used to this whole roommate thing, right?" Kitty asked.

"Yeah," Anna replied noncommittally.

"I am, too. At home, I shared a room with Sarah, my sister. She's fourteen. My older sister, Lindsay- she's seventeen- she got a room to herself, because she's the oldest," Kitty said fondly. (1)

Already, Anna was beginning to regret giving even the slightest bit of insight to someone who was practically a stranger, so she quickly asked, "Is this your first time at boarding school?"

"Yeah," Kitty said nodding. "I'm really happy to have an opportunity to go here, though."

_Really? _Anna thought inwardly with scorn._ You're happy that you're a member of a minority that's hated and feared almost worldwide? _

Silence reigned for a few moments, and then Kitty questioned, interrupting Anna's thoughts as she studied her fingernails, "If you don't mind me asking, what's your power?" (2)

Anna felt a muscle in her jaw twitch, and she stood, walking over to the chest-of-drawers, taking her cosmetics bag with her. "I don't want to talk about it," she said finally.

Kitty paused, then shrugged. "Okay," she responded.

Unwilling to dwell on thoughts of her mutation, Anna proceeded to begin planning her outfit for the next day. Munroe had threatened her with a detention if she wore tights and combat boots again, but would the woman actually do that? The nuns at DuPont'sPrep had strictly enforced the dress code, but what about these teachers?

With a shrug, Anna decided that it would make an interesting experiment. Smirking, she selected her favorite high-heels: Mary Jane-style, black, leather clogs with metal studs along the edges. It was important, she knew, to create the right impression on her first day of school. Hairstyle, makeup, and jewelry would be crucial, as they would speak volumes about her character.

Designer brands be damned, Anna still knew how to make herself look good.

"So, um, do you want to work out a schedule for the mornings?" Kitty asked.

"Schedule?" Anna inquired carelessly.

"Like, you know, you get the bathroom for the first fifteen minutes, and I get it for the second or whatever. What time do you think you'll take your shower?"

Anna thought about it for a few seconds. "I'll just shower at night."

"What would be the point of that?" Kitty asked. "Showers wake you up, so taking a shower before going to bed would just be counterproductive."

Very quickly losing patience, Anna said icily in return, "Forgive me for trying to help our 'scheduling' run more smoothly." She felt needlessly annoyed with this girl, and wished for the umpteenth time that she was still at DuPont's Prep, corporal punishment or not. "Since you will be showering in the morning, I'll just get ready in the bathroom till you return. And once you get back, you can have the bathroom."

"Fine with me," Kitty said, shrugging her shoulders.

_I have a feeling that if I turned this room into a marsh wildlife exhibit complete with an actual pond and amphibians, it would be okay with you, _Anna thought disgustedly. _So to review, I'm at a school for kids who are freaks. Most of the students are boys, I don't know anyone, and the one other girl has a backbone deficiency. Thanks to Bella, my dorm room is mostly pink, and thanks to me, a superheroine is now comatose. _

_This is going to be a total catastrophe._

Anna sighed in vexation_._

_Watch out, Xavier's Academy. Attitude is almost all I have left, and no one's going to take that from me._

* * *

**Report: Surveillance Summary**

**Operative: Agent Armor**

**Commander: Colonel Nicholas Fury**

**Subject has very suddenly transferred from Madame DuPont's School for Girls to Xavier's Academy for Gifted Youngsters. This development was not expected, but is not unusual; the stepmother often makes significant decisions with little to no warning, and the father does nothing to discourage this. Full investigation of Xavier's Academy underway, although it appears to be a school for students of wealth and special privilege. Requesting that another agent be sent there to keep tabs on Subject.**

**Stepmother's justifications for this sporadic switch are unknown for now. Will try to use household position to uncover the reasons for the Subject's seemingly random transfer of schools. Meanwhile, the Subject appears to be completely unconcerned with mutants in society. No superhuman abilities have surfaced thus far.**

* * *

(1) Kitty had two sisters in "X-Men: Misfits." Seeing how they appeared for a grand total of one page, I have no idea why they were included in the first place.

(2) About Kitty's rather awkwardly word mention of mutant "powers": they actually used that terminology in the "Misfits" book. It struck as just so weird, because it just seems like such a "fan" thing to do, like for a character discussion about just what Chamber's powers actually are. Does anyone ever recall mutant abilities being canonically referred to as "powers" in the comics? For whatever reason, this just struck me as strange.

Any thoughts or questions? Let me know.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters, settings, and other plot elements belong to Marvel. I do not gain any profit from this page.

**Author's Note:** The views and opinions expressed in the story content do not correlate with the views and opinions of Artemis's Liege.

* * *

Quite possibly, she had already walked down this corridor. Then again, it was possible that she hadn't. All of the corridors had begun to look alike awhile ago.

Anna stopped walking and exhaled wearily.

Quite possibly, she was lost.

With a sigh, Anna glanced at the stylish analogue watch her friend Idie had given her last Christmas. It was past six-thirty now, and at this rate, she wasn't going to be in time to get dinner. She completely regretted her foolish overconfidence to think that she didn't need the map in the student handbook and leave it behind in her dorm room.

Screw this whole mutant high school thing. This sucks.

Seeing no other choice, Anna squared her shoulders and kept walking down the hall, quickening her stride. There was no reason why she shouldn't be able to find the cafeteria. After all, she had been on the Honor Roll (with distinction) at DuPont's Prep. Surely, she should have been intelligent enough to locate a room.

Wrapped up in herself as always, it took Anna several seconds to realize that she heard voices approaching. Excellent. Here was her chance to ask for directions, and then grab some food at the cafeteria.

But wait. Did she really want to look like some sort of clueless loser who needed to ask for help? A pathetic girl who couldn't do a thing for herself and had to rely on someone else to bail her out?

Then again, it wasn't even her first official day here. Who would blame her if she had to ask for directions while in a completely unfamiliar place?

And she was positively ravenous, not to mention the purple blotches that were beginning to cloud her vision. Maybe she ought to have eaten something at that fancy restaurant by the Virginia airport instead of sulking.

Deliberately pacing her breathing to make sure that it was slow and steady, Anna practiced stretching her facial muscles into what she hoped was a friendly smile as she rounded the corner to meet the other students.

She came face-to-face with two boys; one was equal to her in height, the other towered over both of them.

Oh, God. She had made the decision to talk to them, but it was easier said than done; her jaws felt as if they had been cemented shut, and even if she managed to wrench her mouth open, Anna had no idea what she would actually say. Hot shame washed over her and she felt more idiotic than if she had continued blindly wandering throughout the halls.

"Whoa," said the hulking boy. He didn't have skin or hair, and his entire body seemed to be constructed entirely out of craggy gray stone, like a golem from a fairy tale. His eyes were a milky white, and Anna vaguely wondered if he was blind. With his elbow, he nudged the other boy. "Check it out, Vic. Another new girl." His voice was deep and gravelly.

Evidently, he was not blind, then. Anna couldn't stop herself from thinking that she had been an idiot to assume something like that.

"I can see that, Santo," his counterpart, apparently Vic, responded dryly. With a smile, he held out his hand for Anna to shake. "Hey, I'm Victor Borkowski. This is Santo Vaccarro."

Determined not to act like a snob as she already had numerous times today, Anna quickly shook his hand, noticing that his right arm was much more pronounced and muscular than his left. Victor's skin was also covered by green reptilian scales, emphasizing his blue eyes, with a spiked carapace atop his head in lieu of hair.

"Hey," she said, her voice casual. "I'm Anna Marie Keller."

"Two first names, huh?" Santo chuckled.

"I'm glad someone gets that," Anna Marie said flippantly. "Most people just assume that Marie is my middle name."

"So Anna Marie, did you get here today?" Victor smiled at her.

"Yeah," Anna replied with a shrug. "I'm starting classes tomorrow."

"What language?" Victor asked.

"French."

"Cool. I might see you there," Victor said. "This is my third year of French."

"Wait a minute," Santo broke in. "You from the South?"

"Born in Georgia, raised in Virginia, and spent most summers in Mississippi," Anna confirmed.

"But . . ." Santo sounded almost disappointed. "You don't have an accent."

Anna was at a loss for a moment, but regained her wits with little floundering. "Well, I must have somewhat of an accent," she pointed out, "or else you wouldn't have guessed that I'm a Southerner."

"Well, yeah," Santo said. "But you had to speak for a couple of sentences before I could tell. And even then, it was barely there. In the movies, they say stuff like, 'Ah do dee-kuh-laire that y'all's square-dancin' par-tay was the best Ah have ev-vah seen, sho'nuff,' and all that."

For a moment, Anna and Victor could only stare. Then Anna shook her head. "That's not a Southerner talking. That's a redneck living out in the isolated Texas hills."

" . . . 'Square-dancing'?" Victor echoed incredulously.

"So why don't you speak with an accent?" Santo persisted.

Anna rolled her eyes jocularly. "Because first of all, not everyone in the South talks like The Beverly Hillbillies. And before this school, I was at a Catholic boarding school run by nuns who were mostly from the North. Trust me when I tell you that they did not appreciate students mangling the English language."

"Nuns, huh?" Santo asked interestedly. "Did they beat you with a cane?"

"A ruler," Anna said wryly. "Only over the hands, though." Despite her surface offhanded manner, Anna was panicking inwardly. This wasn't a topic she wanted to discuss. There had to be something else to talk about . . . "So what are the teachers here like?"

"Watch out for Ms. Frost," Santo told her instantly. "She's really hot, but she's a total bitch. She's not here right now, but she will be soon enough. And whatever you do, don't act like you don't think she knows what she's talking about."

"She hates it when students question her intelligence." Victor grimaced. "And let me tell you, she is not someone you should mess with."

"I guess she has an indicative name." Anna's tone was nonchalant, but she was privately cheering. Here she was, at a new school, and she was enjoying a conversation between herself and several other students. What's more was that they seemed to be enjoying the conversation as well; they had cared enough to give advice to her and warn her about a teacher. Gradually, Anna felt the smile on her face becoming less artificial and at least somewhat genuine.

"Tell me about it," Santo said. "Plus, with her telepathy, she can read your mind and know when you're challenging her, even when you don't say anything. It's creepy."

The statement startled Anna. "Totally creepy."

Unfortunately, her stomach chose that moment to punctuate her remark with an embarrassingly loud growl. Her face flamed, but she forced herself into her happy place and laughed slightly, ignoring the little voice in her head that told her she was an incredible loser. "I meant to ask: could you tell me how to get to the cafeteria?"

"Sure. You're almost there anyway. Just walk down this hallway and turn right. You should have no problem seeing it," Santo said. "So you went to a boarding school, before coming here, huh? What was that lik-"

"We'll let you get on your way," Victor interrupted good-naturedly. "If you don't get to the cafeteria soon, you won't get any dinner. Right, Santo?"

"Man, I was just trying to- " Santo began to complain.

"Come find us at breakfast tomorrow," Victor invited her. "We'll introduce you to some of the guys." He smiled at her, and grabbed Santo's elbow to drag him away. "See you later."

"'Bye," Anna said, waving prior to turning in the direction Santo indicated and feeling like an idiot for causing such an awkward moment. But Victor had asked her to sit with them tomorrow. Of course, he could just be taking pity on her because he thought she was hopeless.

No. She had to stop feeling sorry for herself. While her mutation wasn't visible, it wasn't going to go away. She couldn't spend the rest of her life trying to hide from herself. Even she didn't want to be here, she owed it to Raven to make this school work.

Well, make this school work for her.

Finally, after following Victor's directions, she located the cafeteria: the carved mahogany double doors stood open, allowing the delicious scent of of blended spices and simmering meat to waft through the air. An ironic smile tugged at the corner of Anna's lips; maybe she had found something likeable at Xavier's Academy after all.

Carefully surveying the large room as she entered, Anna took note of its furnishings. Rectangular metal tables with metal chairs were meticulously arranged upon the blue and white tile, creating a network of pathways. Along the left was a window with a conveyor belt; Anna assumed it led to the kitchen, and was where students deposited their trays, plates, and utensils when they were finished eating. The tables had been pushed away from this wall, leaving a six-foot walkway, presumably because the food counters were against the far wall and this area was used as a space for waiting in line for meals.

Overall, the room was rather bland; the walls were white with a wide stripe of Persian blue about eight feet above the floor. Aside from yet another oversized navy blue and white "Mutatis mutandis" banner that hung along the stripe on the right wall, the cafeteria could have been on the campus of any public high school, she assumed. She had never actually been inside a public school.

Now that dinner was almost over, the cafeteria was nearly empty. A few clusters of students sat at tables, scattered throughout the room, finishing their meals. One boy was laying out playing cards in a game of solitaire as he spoke to another student who wore a black mask over the lower half of his face. As Anna did her best to discreetly glance around, a boy abruptly rose at the table she was passing, and the two of them barely avoided crashing into one another.

Irritated by this narrowly averted collision, Anna sent a withering look in his direction. He was slightly shorter than her, lean, and cute, she supposed, but rather bizarrely, he had chosen to color his hair and eyebrows sky blue. Despite her own abnormal hairstyle, Anna found this exceptionally odd. He looked like a particularly ridiculous anime character. Of course, the hair could just be a part of his mutation.

The boy maintained a blank expression throughout the entire encounter, and simply moved past her, carrying his tray to the drop-off window. He didn't seem to be bothered in the slightest.

For a moment, Anna struggled not to feel insulted by his disregard, but then she remembered that she didn't especially care about anyone at this school.

"Quite the charmer, isn't he?" A smooth voice to her right inquired.

Whirling to locate the source of the voice, Anna was stunned to find herself only a few feet away from a familiar face. "Jean-Paul Beaubier?"

Only a few paces away was Jeanne-Marie's twin brother, who had attended the Catholic boys' school, St. Thomas Aquinas's Institute for Young Men, which served as a counterpart male school for DuPont's Prep. The brother and sister shared heavy resemblance to one another, even though they were only fraternal twins.

To be short, both of the twins were beautiful (1). Just like Jeanne-Marie, Jean-Paul had refined, precisely symmetrical features set upon utterly flawless pale skin, with arched upswept eyebrows and high sculpted cheekbones. Thick lashes gave their eyes a smoky appearance, which were already remarkable due to their unusual coloring: a deep blue with hints of gray, reminiscent of an ocean covered with a fine silver mist. Even their builds were alike, tall and striking, with the type of lean whipcord thinness that denoted very athletic lifestyles rather than frailty, accompanied by the same faultless posture.

Because they went to different schools, Anna had rarely actually seen the twins together, and the few times she did was at the extravagant Christmas parties Bella arranged, basically so she and her snobby friends could flaunt the logos on their gowns, when there were plenty of other people and distractions around. Because the Mr. and Mrs. Beaubier were good friends of Anna's father, they always attended. She never really taken the time to scrutinize the similarities between the twins before, and it was positively astounding.

"For now, it's Jean-Paul Martin," he said with a brief smile.

"Of course," Anna acknowledged, numbness creeping over her, astonishment at this unlikely situation. Jeanne-Marie had used the surname "Stevenson" (2) while attending DuPont's Prep, to evade any issues pertaining to her wealthy parents. It would make sense if Jean-Paul also had an alias.

"Would you like to sit with me?"

Anna sighed in relief that she had found someone she knew, an odd sense of detachment overwhelming her. "Sure," she replied, quickly moving around the tables in her path, and then sitting across from him. "What's for dinner? Is the food worth eating?"

"It's normally alright." Jean-Paul glanced at his tray. "I usually just buy the salad, though. But tonight, there's Salisbury steak. Meals here always come with whole wheat rolls and vegetables."

"Anything sounds good right about now," Anna said, standing. "I'm going to go and get dinner."

"Don't worry," Jean-Paul reassured her. "I won't be going anywhere." His fleeting smile revealed gleaming white teeth.

Briskly moving to the serving area, Anna plucked one of the black trays from the stack, clanked a handful of metal utensils on top, and moved down the row of stainless steel counters to where a lone Hispanic woman handed her a ceramic plate piled with steak, boiled broccoli, and corn. Anna grabbed a roll from the basket and proceeded to the drinks station, grabbed a transparent plastic glass, and after a momentary debate, pressed it against the water dispenser. Once her glass was full, she continued to the cash register, where she handed her I.D. card to another Hispanic worker, who scanned the barcode into a slim computer monitor.

On her way back to the table, she noticed yet another Hispanic employee beginning to mop the floor, triggering a suspicion about the workers at the school. Narrowing her eyes, she returned to Jean-Paul's table.

"Are these workers even here legally?" She asked as she placed her tray on the metal surface and sat down.

"That's extremely judgmental," Jean-Paul commented off-handedly. "Just because they're of a certain ethnicity doesn't indicate that they illegally entered this country."

Jesus Christ. His voice, unhurried and pleasant, was even like Jeanne-Marie's. The only difference was that he spoke in a lower tone than her, yet his words were remained distinct and clear. In the back of her mind, it occurred to Anna to wonder how their mannerisms could be so similar why they generally spent nine months of the year apart from each other, and had been doing so for at least seven years.

"I've been at this school for more than five hours, and all three maintenance workers I've seen have been Hispanic," Anna said flatly.

"You should try being colorblind, Anna. And since when are cashiers and food servers maintenance workers?"

"Don't try to change the subject." Anna sent him a appraising glance, attempting to decipher his expression.

Jean-Paul smiled for more than five seconds this time. He became all the more gorgeous when he did so. "If they want to be a part of America, why should we stop them?"

"Because it's illegal, and it undermines the citizenship process," Anna responded instantly. "Why is Professor Xavier enabling them?"

Although he continued to smile, to Anna it now struck her as less handsome and seemed to lend an uncanny faultlessness to his features. "I don't know if any of these people reside in the U.S. illegally, Anna."

"Anna Marie," she said insistently.

"But if a few are here and lacking proper documentation," Jean-Paul continued, as if he had not heard her, "ask yourself this: if they don't accept these jobs, who will? Not many other people want to work within close proximity of mutants if they can act to change those circumstances."

Vaguely annoyed, Anna stared at him. "Why didn't you just say that in the first place?"

Jean-Paul steadily returned her gaze, the smile casual. "People are pretentious, and I don't want to seem too simple."

"Groovy." Sarcasm dripped from Anna's voice. "What are you doing at this school, Jean-Paul?" In the second week of school in September, Jeanne-Marie had mentioned to Anna that Jean-Paul had transferred to another school, but hadn't known the circumstances. Her astonishment at the present situation began to slip away, and Anna could tell she was gradually regaining her sense of reality.

"At the headmaster's suggestion, I departed from St. Tom's," Jean-Paul informed her, unconcerned. "My parents were contacted by Charles Xavier afterwards, and they decided to ship me off."

Anna absorbed this. It was unsurprising that St. Tom's wouldn't want a mutant on the premises. And the Beaubiers owned a successful clothing line, Argent, which unwaveringly remained one of the top designer brands in Europe and Canada, while still massively popular in the U.S. "Do they hate you for being a mutant?"

A mirthless smile twisted its way onto Jean-Paul's lips. "On the contrary. While they can't allow this to ruin their high social standing, the idea of possessing their own personal soldier delights them." He studied her. "Bella and your father don't know, I take it?"

"No," Anna said shortly.

"Raymond is the one who brought me here," Jean-Paul said. "What about you?"

"My aunt," Anna responded guardedly. The name Raymond could only be Raymond Belmonde, whom Anna had met during her ninth grade year. Jeanne-Marie had mentioned him several times; he was young, well-educated, the latest of Mr. Beaubier's assistants tasked with managing the twins' lives, and had begun in their seventh grade year, the longest to avoid a breakdown yet. For the sake of simplicity, the assistants were always dual citizens of Canada and the United States, like the Beaubier family themselves, so they could easily whisk the twins away at the end of the school year to the family's manor on the outskirts of Quebec. Jeanne-Marie often confided her frustration in Anna about her parents' lack of time for her.

A glint of metal at Jean-Paul's neck caught her eye. "Is that your graduation medal?"

A tradition at St. Tom's and DuPont's Prep, "graduation medals" were presented by parents after the respective school's eighth grade graduation ceremonies. To symbolize that they were no longer in the middle school building and entering the last portion of secondary schooling, the parents of each graduating student purchased a saint medal through the school, the specific saint selected because of their child's similarities to that person. Although not required, every high school student wore their sterling silver holy medal, specifically tailored to them, with an air of pride.

Despite no longer attending a Catholic school, Anna hadn't forgone the tradition. Loosening her collar, she pulled out the chain out her blouse. "I have St. Sebastian. The patron saint of athletes, kind of generic, but since I was always inviting my father to my games and meets, and by default, Bella, this is what they decided to get for me."

Jean-Paul withdrew his own medal. "St. Rose of Lima."

Anna frowned. "What's she the patron of?"

The strange smile crossed his features again. "The patron against vanity."

Ouch. Quite the burn, considering the religious medal was a gift from his parents. Maybe Bella wasn't so bad, after all. Wincing, Anna decided that this was too personal of a discussion, and inwardly berated herself for always somehow managing to choose an awkward topic of conversation. Time to change the subject, but what was there to talk about? The conversation between herself, Victor, and Santo was still weighing on her mind, and undoubtably Jean-Paul's input would be interesting, at the very least. "So, which teachers at this place are the most obstinate?"

"Ms. Munroe," Jean-Paul replied promptly, his voice richly amused.

"Yes. We have . . . met," Anna informed him.

"Mr. Lehnsherr blatantly plays favorites, but since our schools had basic physics and chemistry last year, I take biology with the juniors," Jean-Paul said. "You should be in Ms. Grey's bio class as well, so don't bother worrying about him."

"I am." Anna had removed her schedule from her skirt's pocket. "I have it second period, right after history." A thought dawned on her. "If we take bio, do we have to take environmental studies?"

Jean-Paul nodded. "Unfortunately, it's a required course for freshmen and sophomores. Environmental Studies I in freshman year, and then II in sophomore year. But because I had earth science class in eighth grade at St. Tom's, Raymond convinced Professor Xavier to allow me to skip the first class and just take the second. No doubt this 'aunt' of yours was able to do the same, after all, our schools shared the same curriculum." He deliberated for a few seconds, studying her. "Anyway, I have environmental studies last. When do you have trigonometry?"

Listening carefully, Anna observed that if she listened closely, there was barely any emotion in his tone. "Third. Before lunch."

"We'll be sharing that class," Jean-Paul remarked. The casual smile had come back to his features, but it seemed . . . off, somehow, as if he was doing his best to be sincere, though unintentionally letting his true feelings slip through the cracks. "Dr. McCoy is an excellent teacher. I can't think of anyone else so readily suited for the job."

"I met Victor and Santo. They told me to watch out for Ms. Frost." Anna quirked an eyebrow.

Jean-Paul looked serious. "Don't antagonize her, whatever you do. I have no idea why she is involved in a teaching career, due to her loathing for teenagers."

"She sounds rather unstable," Anna observed conversationally.

Shaking his head slightly, Jean-Paul shrugged. "Her outward demeanor is certainly not approachable, but at least polite, in a rather formal manner. But watch her eyes as she speaks. There's very little emotion present within them, and one wonders if her charming facade disguises some sort of misanthropy."

Anna silently regarded Jean-Paul. In describing the personality of their teacher, he had inadvertently illustrated her impression of him. "You must know her very well, then."

"No," Jean-Paul refuted. "I've just heard others talk about her."

Right, Anna thought skeptically, and Kitty Pryde is my new best friend. "What does she teach?"

"Psychology," Jean-Paul answered. "How ironic." His voice was layered with amusement and something else Anna couldn't place. Disgust? Sarcasm? "She's a telepath, so she can read minds. She's so frightening that most of the students were glad that she and Ms. Grey weren't here at the beginning of the school year, but according to the rumor, they returned this afternoon."

"What's this Grey person like?" Anna asked. "According to rumors, that is."

"Pleasant," Jean-Paul said. "She's a telepath and a telekinetic."

Anna frowned. "That's right. What can all of these teachers do?"

"Munroe can control the weather, Dr. McCoy has enhanced senses, strength, and agility, Lehnsherr controls metal, Proudstar has strength and invulnerability, Rasputin turns his body into organic steel for invulnerability and strength, Logan has metal claws, Braddock, Monet and Professor Xavier are all telepaths, and Ms. Frost is also supposed to be a latent telekinetic. As for the two Guthries and da Costa, I don't know." Jean-Paul named all of the teachers without changing his mellow tone.

"Jesus Christ, this place is a power house," Anna said in astonishment.

"Well, what did you think when you realized that you were going to attend a school for mutants?" Jean-Paul asked cavalierly.

Anna glanced down at her silverware as she finished the last bits of her meal, and blinked as she noticed her painted fingernails. "I don't know," she replied honestly. "I've never spent much time thinking about mutants before this."

"And what do you think of them now?" Jean-Paul's face was blank, but his strange eyes were alight with a hypnotic gleam.

For a moment, Anna had no idea what to say, and glanced around for time to collect her thoughts. Other members of the janitorial staff had entered the cafeteria, and Jean-Paul and herself were the only students to remain. The clatter of plates being removed from the dishwasher and placed in stacks could be heard all the way from the kitchen. A custodian passed by their table, the wheels of the rolling bucket he pushed squeaking.

Meeting Jean-Paul's intense gaze, she grew aware of how eerie his appearance truly was. No one, not matter how beautiful, should have able to look so effortlessly perfect. After a few minutes of looking at him, his superficial person became extraordinarily creepy.

"They're not different," she said finally, painfully aware of how simplistic her statement sounded. "They're just . . . people."

Something unfathomable flickered in Jean-Paul's gaze, and he smiled, the abrupt change in his features erasing the surreal effects of his fixed stare as he stood. "I've enjoyed talking to you, Anna Marie. Why don't you sit at my table during breakfast tomorrow?"

"Looking forward to it," Anna replied, staring him in the eye.

She received only another enigmatic smile in return, and turned and strode out the door. Watching his impeccable profile as he went, she noted with a raised eyebrow that his walk remind her of a spy from an espionage film; the lithe grace that defined his movements seemed too precise, yet subtle, to be natural.

A prickling sensation running through the skin on her ankles told Anna that her legs had fallen asleep, and she rose, gingerly walking to the drop-off window, where she left her tray. Prior to exiting the cafeteria, she took one last long look about the room where she was going to be eating three times a day, surrounded by boys and authority figures, for the next two years and eight months. It was a sobering thought.

Her footfalls resounded in the deserted halls, a reminder of how alone she truly was. Time seemed to stretch before her as she meandered aimlessly through the vacant the corridors, reviewing the events that had brought her to this point, and half-heartedly attempting to make her way back to her dorm room.

Had it really been only last month that she had returned from a summer vacation spent at Raven's home, and resumed normal life at DuPont's Prep? When her biggest concern was getting detention for an untucked shirttail and scheming a way to sneak off on a bus to the mall when they were allowed to spend a Saturday in the town?

Her life had been so simple, then. No lies to her father and Bella, no worries about discovery of her mutation.

Then, at the beginning of October, the course of her life had been drastically changed with no warning whatsoever.

* * *

Raven had to go to New York City on business, and had taken Anna with her for a weekend trip. In the late morning, before Raven had to attend one of her meetings, they had arranged to take a carriage ride through Central Park. The day was gorgeous: sunny with blue skies, warm, but a slight breeze. Everyone was out enjoying the beautiful weather, she had seen families at the Boathouse cafe, tourists admiring the Belvedere Castle, and groups of young walking around, carrying lattes and chatting with friends, presumably trying to stretch out their lunch breaks. The trip had been going gloriously, until a costumed supervillain, named "Electro," she had discovered later, suddenly appeared and began hurling small-scale incendiary devices left and right, cackling madly as he did.

That kind of stuff always somehow managed to put a damper on things.

The horses of their open carriage, the most elaborate and debonair model available, had picked up speed at the sounds of the explosions, and when another landed directly in their path, had abruptly turned. No longer under the driver's command, the carriage had swerved and jolted, rocking back and forth on its wheels, throwing Anna from the seat onto the pavement, as the horses raced away, the carriage out of control.

The memories of that day were hazy in her mind; she remembered some thing better than others, but she still could feel the impact when she had hit the pavement path, landing awkwardly on her side, and laying there, momentarily stunned. People were panicking, screaming as they ran, trying to get away from the terrorist as soon as possible.

Someone grabbed her arm only seconds after she hit the ground, pulling her upright. Anna stood and whirled to look in the frightened green eyes of a red-headed young woman who wore a nametag that read: Intern, Mary Jane Watson.

"Go!" The woman told her, pushing her forward. Most of the civillians had fled that area of the park by that point, but the woman nonetheless turned and went back to help the remaining people.

Even as she ran, Anna was ashamed of herself. Ashamed for running like a coward when a woman not much older than her was courageously risking her life to help other people escape, despite the danger to herself.

The explosions were increasing now, growing louder, and most likely, larger. A ball of electricity slammed into one of the massive trees ahead of her, simultaneously felling it and setting the branches aflame, forcing Anna to change her path. She ran blindly, and another explosive spun just above her head. For a few seconds, she couldn't make her legs stop moving. Then, she had thrown herself to the ground before she had even realized where she was.

In front of Cleopatra's Needle. All sixty-eight feet and one hundred and eighty tons of the stone sculpture, according to that damn tourist brochure she had read.

She had shut her eyes and begged God to save her, but when she opened them again, she could see the next explosive was arcing towards the massive red obelisk. There was no way it could miss; the explosive would make contact with the sculpture. She couldn't move, only watch, seconds away from being crushed by the chunks of granite that would result from the impact . . .

The was a flash of gold and black in the corner of her vision, and suddenly she was airborne, but safe. Carol was holding her, taking her away from the destruction and chaos. Everything was going to be all right-

It was just a small sensation, at first. Her shoulders itched against Carol's arms, left bare by the sleeveless uniform she wore.

And then her mind was flooded by thoughts and memories that weren't hers. Piloting tests, the Air Force, aliens. Shopping with someone named Janet, practicing at the shooting range, meeting Dr. Walter Lawson, fighting alongside the other Avengers.

Spots danced before her vision, she could barely see, she hurt so much, felt like she was on fire-

She was killing her. She was killing Carol Danvers, Ms. Marvel, and she didn't know why or how, and she was dying.

She knew Carol was dying, the life slowly draining away from her.

She could feel Carol dying.

They were both dying-

* * *

"Что за черт ты думаешь?" A deep voice said (3). Lost in her own thoughts, Anna started, losing her footing on the staircase she was halfway up, and stumbling. She regained her balance momentarily, but heat rushed to her face, and she twisted to see who had spoken to her.

Standing at the bottom of the staircase was a very tall and muscular man, built like a professional football player. He was really cute, Anna noticed vaguely. A clean-shaven face with a strong jaw, and smooth black hair.

"What?" She asked, gripping the railing, her tone a bit sharper than she had intended.

He frowned at her, and spoke again, this time in accented English. "That stair leads to the men's dormitories. Why are you trying to go there?"

The accent . . . was it Russian? He had been in one of the portraits outside Xavier's office, she realized, refocusing her attention. A teacher, then. A teacher had caught on the staircase leading to the men's dorms.

Slowly, Anna began to descend the staircase. "I was looking for the women's dorms," she explained. "That's where my room is."

_No, really, Anna? Your room isn't in the gym or the bio lab? Are you sure?_

The man stared at her, probably because she was standing right in front of him now, most likely violating his sense of personal space. But did it honestly matter? He mistakenly believed she had been deliberately trying to get into guys' bedrooms, so he probably already thought she was a slut.

"I will show you the way," he said at last, turning his back on her and walking. Anna followed, somewhat annoyed that he had a height advantage over her and thus could walk faster.

It seemed that they walked for an inordinate amount of time, winding through halls and taking random lefts and rights, until he stopped.

"I have to go in another direction," he informed her. Pointing, he said, "Take a left at the end of this hallway, and you should be fine." He walked away without looking over his shoulder.

"Thanks," Anna called after him.

He didn't respond, but she hadn't expected him to. The man most likely had better things to do than act as a guide for new students.

But his directions were accurate. In no time, she found herself shoving the plastic card into the slot on the door that led to the dorms, then again for her own dorm door. When she entered, she saw that Kitty was not there, and Anna was grateful that the roommate that she probably wouldn't get along with wasn't present to witness her disoriented state.

Dazed, she barely comprehended what she was doing as she changed into a long lilac cotton bathrobe of lightweight terrycloth, slid her feet into her rubber flip-flops, and grabbed her tolietries, proceeding out the door to the shower room at the end of the hall. She barely noticed the college-style setup of the room, just went to the nearest shower stall, hung her robe on the hook outside, and slid the curtain closed, turning the metal handle and allowing the hot water to wash over her exhausted body. But she didn't feel any better, not even the comforting smell of her collection of shampoo, conditioner, bodywash, and even soap, all scented with a blend of peach and mango, calmed her distressed state.

She rubbed the foam of her shampoo into her hair, feeling the water hit her eye makeup, causing it to streak down her face, and pretended that was the reason her eyes stung.

* * *

Anna was able to keep them both aloft long enough to make it safely to the grass. The two of them had tumbled to the ground. Carol just laid there, not moving.

Was she even alive? Would Carol be okay? She had to be, she was a superhero-

No. What she thinking? She was Carol. There was no Anna, just Carol. Ms. Marvel.

Chills overcame her, but she felt like she was burning with fever. She needed to stop Electro, it was her job, there were people she needed to protect, she wanted-

She wanted

She wanted

Darkness consumed her, and she felt ever so grateful as it did.

She woke up in the hospital two days later. Raven had been relieved. Her father wasn't there, because Raven had "fibbed" and told her that Anna had only fractured her ribs by tripping down a staircase, and that she had the situation under control. Anna knew that he father would have been unlikely to show even if Raven had told him the truth.

Carol's entire psyche had been purged from her mind by a mutant Raven had met through the United States Department of Defense, a young college student and telepath, Jacob Gardwin (4). In the next few days that she spent at the hospital, he taught her how to control her mutant abilities. She could touch someone, and essentially have their mind transferred to hers.

The first couple of days had been awful. She hadn't been able to touch anyone with her bare hands. But when she was released, he had taken her to his college campus, Empire State University, and let her practice on students there. After she "accidentally" would bump into someone, she would apologize, and then Jacob would teach her how to compartmentalize and eschew their thoughts, memories, and feelings, but keep their knowledge for herself, stored as if in a database. Gradually, the mutation began to answer to her. She could shut down the other person, and remain undistracted during the entire process.

But Jacob had admitted to Anna that he had been unable to erase Ms. Marvel's abilities. He had coached her in their use, and she had gotten the basics. But there was little more he could do; he wasn't a trainer for superheroes, but an engineering student. Thus, Raven had decided to send her to Xavier's Academy.

It was necessary, Raven had told her. Through her connections at the Department, she had found out that Carol Danvers was still comatose, and unresponsive to any technique the doctors or the superhero community tried. Nothing, magical, practical, or advanced technology, could restore her from her coma.

That was why Anna was told she needed to attend Xavier's Academy. It was a safe place for her, and she would be taught the fine aspects of control.

* * *

And that was how she ended up here.

Anna opened her eyes as the water rinsed the soap suds from her body, wishing it could wash away her mutation as well.

* * *

**A/N:**

(1) Jean-Paul was supposed to be very good-looking in the comics, in fact in the early days of "Alpha Flight", he was quite a hit with the ladies. Funny how that turned out. I changed his background a lot to make this story work.

(2) Jeanne-Marie used the alias "Stevenson" like "Robert Louis Stevenson." As in the guy who wrote _The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_. Multiple personalities, in other words. (Hint, obvious hint.)

(3) Piotr basically asked Anna, "What the hell are you thinking?" Please excuse my bad Russian sentence structure.

(4) "Jacob Gardwin" is Jason Wyngarde in disguise. I don't know if I've mentioned this, but he has telepathic abilities in this universe.

I hope that Anna and Jean-Paul's discussion of the Hispanic workers didn't offend anyone. I intended that to be the explanation about why any human would want to work in a school of super-human teenagers. I sincerely apologize if anyone takes offense to the passage.

Peace, and let me know what you thought of this chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters, settings, and other plot elements belong to Marvel. All other products and copyrighted works mentioned belong to their respective owners. I don't own anything, and I do not gain any profit from this page.

**Author's Note:** The views and opinions expressed in the story content do not correlate with the views and opinions of Artemis's Liege.

Also, what's weird is that initially I started this story as a one-shot, and then it just grew on me.

* * *

White light seared into the eyelids she didn't have the strength to open, and tears would have formed in her eyes if her body had the extra moisture. She could barely draw breath, and the oxygen she did have rasped painfully in her lungs. Her entire body felt uncomfortably fevered, as if she were extra aware of the high temperature of each piece of her skin. Her throat was parched almost to the point of numbness, and her muscles throbbed, aching, although she couldn't imagine why. She was fairly certain that it had been a long time since she had last moved.

" . . . still unconscious . . . "

The voices were here again. She heard them sometimes, but often distorted, as if they were standing in some sort of tunnel. The voices blurred together, and she couldn't comprehend the words. At other times, she couldn't distinguish sentences, only faint murmurings. And yet on the occasions she caught a word or two, unfamiliar memories flared up, dim and hazy, as if remnants of a half-forgotten dream.

She wasn't sure where she was, but she thought it was a white room, to match the white light that glared down on her, piercing through her skin. She wasn't certain who she was, but she thought she was a girl.

A girl with a family.

A girl who was . . . different.

Her world was dark and quiet, but some part of her mind that wasn't quite unconscious urged her to try to awake, stand, walk.

But she wouldn't be able to leave this world.

She knew that.

How did she know that?

"Look at that! Is she waking up?"

It was as if she was surrounded by dark water, but slowly swimming to the surface. She could make it, she could try . . .

"Can you hear us?"

The other world was so close, she was almost there, if she could just reach out her hand and break the surface, then she could-

"She's not responding."

"Has she gone under again?"

"I don't think she was 'over' in the first place."

The voices were fading now, and a current was dragging her back down into the black depths.

She knew that she would be unable to leave.

* * *

_"And I said,_

_'Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone._

_I'll be waiting, all that's left to do is run._

_You be the prince, and I'll be the princess,_

_It's a love story, baby, just say, 'yes'."_

An irritable scoff escaped Anna's lips as her eyes snapped open. As if it wasn't bad enough she had to be here, the first thing she got listen to in the morning was a sappy country song.

_"Romeo, save me, they're trying to tell me how to feel._

_This love is difficult, but it's real._

_Don't be afraid, we'll make it of this mess,_

_It's a love story, baby, just say, 'yes.'"_

She shoved her lurid pink comforter away, and stood to switch off the radio alarm clock. Doing so, she glanced over at Kitty's bed to see if her roommate had even returned last night.

There was a large lump on the mattress, covered by that tacky duvet. Kitty was back.

Anna grimaced. Lucky her. But hey, at least she didn't have to deal with her roommate going missing on her first day of classes. That would be totally inconvenient.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Anna retrieved her outfit that she had laid out on the desk last night, and dressed quickly, before grabbing her cosmetics case proceeding to the bathroom, and examining herself in the mirror. Despite her aversion, the uniform wasn't really that bad; it didn't look overly Sailor Fuku-ish. She wore a short-sleeved white blouse with an oxford collar under a V-neck navy blue sweater vest. The pearl gray skirt reminded her of the miniskirts that Jeanne-Marie would bring on visits to town during the weekends, and then change into once they were out of sight of the nuns. The top portion was like a normal skirt, but wide folded pleats, navy blue on the inside, began halfway down the front of the fabric.

True, Anna found the matching pearl gray blazer with navy blue accents to be somewhat over the top, especially with the folded lapels, and the navy blue tie looked positively ludicrous, but it wasn't as if she was being forced to wear a sailor top with a kerchief tied at the neck, thank God.

With a critical eye, she surveyed her own additions to the uniform. Leather Mary Jane clogs and a pair of powder blue tights, with floral patterns woven in the lace, which Bella had bought for her, but she never had quite found the opportunity to wear. Now, they livened her dull uniform by adding some color and provided a nice contrast of femininity to her edgy metal-studded black shoes. She had bought these shoes when was with her friend-

A frown formed upon Anna's face. Who had she been with that day? A name drifted in the corner of her mind, if she could just remember-

No. If she couldn't recall anyone, she must have been alone that day. She shrugged, thinking that she must still be confused from waking up so early.

Speaking of waking up . . .

Anna's gaze flicked to the door, only a few seconds before a knock sounded, gratingly loud upon the wood.

"Anna!" Kitty called through the door. "I'm going to take a shower, okay?"

_I don't care_, Anna thought.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Kitty continued.

_I still don't care_. Anna closed her eyes.

However, her lack of response seemed to only encourage Kitty. She banged on the door with more force. "Anna!" She shouted. "You in there?"

Anna unclenched her teeth so she could voice a response. "_Yes_."

"I'm going now, okay?"

_Good. Go, just please,_ go. "'_Kay_," she responded.

With that, Kitty left their dorm.

_Thank you, God._

With Kitty gone, she could go back to scrutinizing her reflection in peace, and then make some decisions. She eyed the her hair, which was held in a loose twist by an elastic band. Firmly holding her hairbrush, she began working out the usual morning untidiness. After her hair was back in its normal state of relative straightness with minimal wave, she began to braid the white sections of her hair.

The finished result only took a few minutes to achieve, and she studied herself in the mirror. Two thin smooth braids, formed a loose white circlet upon her head, tied together at the back. She didn't look half bad, even if she did now share a passing resemblance to Gladriel from that _Lord of the Rings _movie. For an instant, she wondered if she had been an idiot to dye the front sections of her hair white. She and Jeanne-Marie had made a pact several years ago to streak their hair white together when they got out of DuPont's Prep, and Anna had kept her end of the deal, sort of. Raven had caught her before she had the opportunity to streak all of her hair, hence why there were only two thin sections of white at the front of her head.

But Anna shook her head. Even if it did look stupid, there was nothing she could do about at the moment. She focused on the next part of her appearance: makeup.

While she had little experience actually applying makeup, other than the few times she and her friends at school had practiced with one another, she knew enough to get by. Having been mostly raised in the United States and only spending summer vacation and holidays in Canada, Jeanne-Marie had grown increasingly engrossed with American pop culture, and read numerous teen magazines, including _Seventeen_, which Anna had flipped through when sufficiently bored. She had actually considered herself lucky to learn about a trick to hide the dark circles under her eyes, a problem that afflicted her more than most others, due to her pale skin.

Carefully, Anna traced over both sets of upper eyelashes and beneath her lower lashes with coffee-colored eyeliner, then brushed over it with light peach eyeshadow. The dark circles weren't completely gone, but much less noticeable. Continuing, she applied pale lavender eyeshadow over her eyelids, then added a dusky amethyst at the outer corners. A swipe of black mascara to lengthen her lashes, a touch of pale pink lip gloss for some color in her face, a few spritzes of peach and mango perfume, and voilà, she was ready.

She appraised her image in the mirror. Without professional aid, she could never even hope to rival the effortless natural beauty of Jeanne-Marie and Jean-Paul. The sultry allure of Neena's looks wasn't present on her face, and she didn't possess Idie's bold, yet appealing features. And while she didn't have Kitty's waifish pixie cuteness, instead Anna was . . . pretty. With her hair styled as it was, she looked elegant, although with her default cold expression, somewhat like an ice queen, but she was fine with that.

With a smile of satisfaction that at last, something seemed to be going her way, Anna let herself out of the tiny bathroom. In preparation for her day, she folded her schedule and stowed it in her skirt pocket, and opened her student handbook, of which she had already dog-eared the page with the dress code.

**Female students are to wear a white blouse with a navy blue pullover sweater vest and navy blue tie, all regulation items. The required gray blazer and skirt must also be worn with brown, navy, or black dress shoes, and hosiery or navy knee-high socks or white anklets.**

Smirking, Anna closed the handbook. The style or color of hosiery female students were permitted to wear was never specified, thus allowing her to don whatever tights she chose. She could even wear fishnets if she wanted (she didn't, because she couldn't rock that look, and thus it only served to make her appear like a prostitute, which was not something she was eager to do at a school full of boys) and there was nothing Munroe could do about it.

Kitty had not yet returned, so to avoid worrying herself over her appearance, she quickly checked her eyebrows in the mirror, to ascertain they still retained their defined arch and didn't require plucking. Her eyebrows looked fine, but when she tried smiling, her mouth did not. In fact, it looked plastic and forced. However, if she turned her lips upward, but didn't allow any teeth to show, it looked passable, and would have to do.

Hoping to dodge Kitty by going to breakfast early, Anna snatched her key card, class timetable, a few of the notebooks Hisako had packed for her, and the student handbook in preparation for her inevitable confrontation with Munroe, then strode briskly out the door.

By the time she reached the cafeteria, she was beginning to think that maybe the day wouldn't be so terrible. She had even managed to find her way by walking through the halls until she spotted someone else (in this case, a boy whose skin and hair were completely golden), and discreetly followed him to the cafeteria, this time paying attention to learn the route.

Because it was barely past seven o'clock, only a handful of students were present. Anna was easily able to spot Jean-Paul sitting at a table with Victor.

"Hey," she greeted them upon arrival.

"Morning," Victor said, smiling at her.

"Hello," Jean-Paul responded with a nod.

She sat down. "Tell me something. How much coaching for our mutations actually goes on at this school?"

"A lot less than there are weird hairstyles at this place," said a wiry blonde boy, joining them at their table.

"Really?" Anna glanced at him.

"Truly. It's as if we're in an American manga with God-awful drawing, to a degree that you can barely distinguish gender, let alone identity, and the artist is trying to make everybody unique by giving them wacky hair, but it's not quite working." He sent an appraising look in Anna's direction, raising an eyebrow as he surveyed her for a moment, and held out his hand. "Doug Ramsey."

The name nagged at the back of her mind, but Anna couldn't recall a time that she had heard it before. She met his gaze and shook his hand. "Anna Marie Keller."

He smiled. "That's just one vowel away from 'killer.'" Doug gestured to Victor and Jean-Paul. "You know these two gentlemen, I assume?"

"Yes." Anna nodded. "Would you tell me more about the training?"

With a shrug, he complied. "Every other day, we have gym class in the Danger Room, and partner up with somebody different every week, and practice combat without or without mutant powers. We have the class on alternating days, switching out with our elective class, which is what you have today. A guy named Mr. Logan, who's a dead ringer for Hugh Jackman minus the Broadway theatrics, claims that he's there to supervise us. Sometimes Professor Xavier or the deputy headmaster, who calls himself Magneto, comes and watches."

"'Magneto?'" Anna echoed in disbelief. "What's a magneto?"

"Mr. Lehnsherr believes that mutants are superior to humans, and thus should abandon their birth name and replace it with a mutant alias," Jean-Paul said, his normally blasé tone layered with amusement and disgust.

"And then certain students defy him and continue to refer to him by his birth name." Victor glanced at Jean-Paul.

"I think Mr. Lehnsherr is presumptuous and arrogant to assume that he's superior to anyone." Jean-Paul stabbed a piece of cantaloupe in his fruit salad.

"Okay, I'm going to let you mutilate your fruit, but I'm going to get something to eat," Doug said. "Again with the salad, J.P.? Do you like starving yourself?"

Victor sent a look in Jean-Paul's direction, who kept silent, poker face firmly in place.

"You coming, Anna Marie?" Doug asked.

So he had gotten her name correct on the first try. Not bad, for a blonde. "Sure," Anna said, joining him. Several more students had arrived at the cafeteria, but the wait in line wasn't very long, and once she got her plate, she found herself looking at an array of breakfast foods. Skipping the bagels and breads for toast, she passed Doug, who was taking several homemade waffles, and proceeded to select a bowl of chopped watermelon, then served herself scrambled eggs, a couple of sausages, and a cup of yogurt. Lastly, she filled her glass with orange juice.

"You eat a lot for a girl," Doug commented.

"Putting up with this school is going to take a lot of energy," Anna said with a shrug.

"Touché."

The two had barely set their trays down at the table before the remaining seats at the table were taken. Santo sat beside Victor and Anna found herself sitting next to a handsome boy with a dark complexion.

He didn't waste any time introducing himself. "Manuel de la Rocha," he said, and for the second time that morning, Anna found herself shaking someone's hand.

"Anna Marie Keller," she responded, returning his smile, although it was beginning to feel somewhat mechanical at this point.

"Tell me about yourself, Anna." His voice was friendly, but this seemed more like a command than a cordial invitation.

Raising an eyebrow slightly, Anna complied despite her misgivings. "I'm fifteen years old-" this wasn't true, but she wouldn't turn fifteen for a few days, "-in sophomore year, and I'll be taking trig and bio. I like pragmatism, breaking the rules for an ultimate end, and black clothing. I don't like people who can't make decisions for themselves, not being allowed to make decisions for myself, being referred to as just 'Anna' instead of 'Anna Marie,' or this school uniform."

"The uniform does kind of suck," Santo contributed.

Manuel leaned back in his chair and smiled. "I'm glad to hear that you're not like your roommate. I don't think I could stand another girl like her."

Anna frowned. "How did you know that she's my roommate?"

"One of Jamie's dupes overheard Ms. Munroe telling Ms. Grey, who told Bobby, who told Julio, who told Scott, who told Kurt, who told Shola, who told me," Doug said calmly.

"Who told all of us," Victor finished.

"Word travels fast around here," Santo chuckled, noticing Anna's dumbfounded expression.

"So tell us Anna Marie, what's it like having the pathetic jellyfish of a homo superior known as Kitty Pryde as your roommate?"Manuel asked, his vicious tone accompanied by a sharp smile. (*)

Briefly, Anna was taken aback by the venom in his voice, but she didn't allow it to show. "Why do you dislike her so much?"

"Does it matter? You don't like her, either," Manuel pointed out.

"And you know that how, exactly?" Anna questioned, an edge to her voice.

"Manuel can sense other people's feelings," Victor explained. "And contr-"

"I think that she has no will or mind of her own," Manuel said, cutting Victor off. "Kitty Pryde has spent her life just doing what others tell her to do, and it annoys me that she's so satisfied by just acting as someone else's pawn."

"How long has Kitty been here?" Anna questioned.

"Three weeks now." Manuel smiled humorlessly. "Lucky us."

Anna looked around the table. "What's the general consensus here on Kitty Pryde?"

"I don't care that much about her, but she seems rather . . . _simplistic_," Jean-Paul said with a careless shrug of his shoulders.

"Snobby," Santo added. "She never really talks to anyone but her boyfriend and his friends."

Anna grimaced. So far, it sounded as if her roommate was rather tedious.

"She's okay," Victor said unenthusiastically. "Just kind of self-absorbed. More than most people."

"No common sense," Doug remarked. "Other than that, a nice girl."

"How would you know?" Manuel inquired. "She's never talked to you. She's never talked to any of us."

"Why?" Anna asked without thinking, then mentally kicked herself for her insensitivity. Being tactless wasn't a good way to go about making friends.

"The people she hangs out with . . . " Victor muttered.

"Because we don't wear fedoras, so we're not cool enough," Santo said with scorn.

Anna stared at him. "_What_?"

"I have to go talk Ms. Braddock, so I was going to head over to the classrooms early," Doug broke in. He looked at Anna. "Want to come with me? I'll show you to your first class."

Draining her glass, Anna stood with her empty tray. "Why not?" She looked around the table. "Thanks for the welcome. This was fun, we should do breakfast again sometime."

"Come sit with us at lunch," Santo said. "You can tell us about the crazy nuns at your last boarding school."

"He's never actually met a nun," Victor informed Anna, noticing her arched eyebrow. "But he's seen a few episodes of _Trinity Blood_, so he assumes all nuns are like the ones in anime."

On their way out the door, Anna encountered another of Doug's friends.

"Hey Doug," an African American boy with sharp aware eyes greeted him. He glanced at Anna. "Who's this?"

"Anna Marie Keller," she responded, once again shaking hands.

"David Alleyne," he replied with a smile. His gaze shifted back to Doug. "I was 'doing my homework' last night, and I finally cracked one of the encryption codes for the school's files. It's not much, but it's a start."

"Cool," Doug said with a grin. "I'll meet you after school in the library to start working, okay?"

"Sounds good," David walking past them into the cafeteria. "See you Doug, Anna."

Anna followed Doug out of the hall. "I know it's none of my business, but why encryption codes?"

"I like codes," Doug said briefly. "This school is a safe place for mutants, and that's great, but sometimes I'm really bored with daily life, you know? Going to classes, doing homework, studying, taking tests." He sent a long look in her direction. "There's just so much ennui that it's a marvel I'm not drained and left comatose."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

*In the "X-Men: Misfits" manga, The Hellfire Club wasn't liked at all by the other students at the school, and so these students don't really like Kitty because she's in The Hellfire Club.

Also, no offense to Taylor Swift or her fans. I'm kind of neutral about her, and Anna (Marie) just doesn't like mushy love songs.

I was looking at Rogue's page on Wikipedia the other day, and it mentioned that she was supposed to be very beautiful, even as a child, in her initial origin story (The one before every different writer tried to give her an origin story, and thus it became a tangled mess [See Pixie, Logan, or Magneto for other X-Men with backstories complicated by multiple retcons]). Not every (Read: hardly any) artist(s) can pull it off, and I'm not even sure if it's still in continuity, but it was there. (Of course, every X-Woman is gorgeous, except for maybe Paige, Kitty, Jubilee, and Xi'an, and all of them are still reasonably pretty. [I'm not counting the Young X-Men, because I never remember their names]).

Also, for this story I have upgraded Jason Wyngarde's power set to high-level telekinesis instead of just illusion-casting.

Constructive criticism is always appreciated. Reviews are great, too. Give me feedback if anything seems to contrived.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters, settings, and other plot elements belong to Marvel. I do not gain any profit from this page.

**Author's Note:** The views and opinions expressed in the story content do not correlate with the views and opinions of Artemis's Liege.

"A spoken sentence followed by an asterisk in parentheses, like this." (*) Indicates actually dialogue spoken in the "X-Men: Misfits" book. Some of it must be read to be believed.

If the asterisk follows a regular sentence, then it's referencing a canonical event in the "Misfits"-verse. I'll give to give an author's note at the bottom of the page for each one.

* * *

How could he know?

A feeling of panic momentarily overwhelmed Anna, but she forced herself to breathe steadily. Her fists clenched at her sides, but then a a feeling of cool indifference washed away her apprehension, and she set her features into her usual aloof expression. Doug knew nothing. There was no way he could know about Ms. Marvel. Only she and Raven knew the truth. His word choice was just a coincidence, that was all.

"Nervous about your first day?" Doug asked casually as they entered a different corridor.

"What?" Anna looked at him sharply.

"You looked really panicked for a minute there," he observed. "I guess it can't be easy to start at a new school."

"It doesn't seem that bad so far," Anna lied, disinclined to whine about her worries to someone she barely knew.

"So, which class do you have first?" He pointed down another corridor on the right. "I'm going this way, to the Spanish room, with Ms. Braddock."

Anna pulled out her schedule. "History, with Mr. Proudstar."

"Keep going to the end of this hall, and you'll see a room marked, "History." That's the place." He turned down the corridor. "See you."

"Later." Anna glanced at her schedule again after he had walked away. Her locker number was 1-67. Carefully scanning the lockers that lined the left side of the hallway, she noticed that the numbers were only 1-30 through 1-60. Walking to the hall where Doug had gone, she saw that the numbers started at 1-1. With a sigh, she continued back down the hall she had first came. There was another corridor on the right, and she was happy to see a bank of lockers beginning at 1-60. Unfolding her schedule to see her combination, she deftly opened the locker, and found four textbooks waiting for her. Trigonometry, biology, French III, and psychology. Just as she grabbed her biology textbook, a bell shrilled through the halls. Anna slammed her locker shut and spun the dial on the lock to secure, then turned and strode up the hall to the history classroom, setting her features in a hard expression.

Unfortunately, she was so focused on her appearance that she neglected to pay attention as she rounded the corner, and the result was a collision between herself and someone else. This "someone" was wearing the male version of the Xavier's Academy uniform. Fine blue-black fur covered his body, except for his head, which had elf-like ears, and hair that was a dark shade of blue. Only two fingers and a thumb on each of his hands gripped his schoolbooks, and a pointed tail flicked around his waist. Yellow eyes stared at her from oddly shadowed features, as if the light didn't reflect properly upon his face.

"_Mein Gott_," he said in German, revealing pronounced fang-like canine teeth. His tone sounded upset. "_Schau, wo du bist zu Fuß_!"

"Beg pardon?" Anna inquired with an edge to her voice, angry at herself for being careless. "I didn't quite catch that."

"Forget it," he snapped, and stalked past her. Anna glanced over her shoulder at him, but just shook her head and started walking. But his yellow eyes were burned into her brain. Somehow, it seemed as if she knew them, like she had seen them before. But who else did she know that yellow eyes? There was Dr. McCoy, but she barely knew him, and she didn't think that it would leave such an impression after one day.

A weary sigh escaped from Anna's lips. What was wrong with her? Ever since she had come to this school, it felt as if pieces of her were missing, like she should posses memories about certain events, but she didn't. Was she going insane?

No. She rolled her eyes at herself. She was just nervous, tense about her new school, her mutation, Ms. Marvel's abilities. After a few days, she would adjust, and then she wouldn't feel so paranoid.

A few of the boys in the hall gave her odd looks as they grabbed their books from their lockers, but no one acted as if a girl in the school was anything remarkable. But then again, Anna reasoned, Kitty had already been a student here for three weeks already. They were probably used to female company by now.

She found her way back to the history classroom, entering and glancing around. It was a typical classroom, with large maps along the walls, accompanied by a few posters of historical events, such as the raising of the flag at Iwo Jima, the fall of the Berlin Wall, and the Civil Rights Movement. Several students stood and spoke to classmates, but the room was mostly empty, as there were five minutes left until the final bell.

Anna noticed a small table at the front of the room with a short stack of newspapers, so she place her books on an empty desk, picked one up, and immediately flipped to the editorials section. She had been told by the nuns at DuPont's Prep that she was a hound for conflict, but in actuality, debates just caught her interest. However, she was disappointed to see that the commentary was only warring letters arguing whether Halloween was a pagan holiday or not. The staff editorials weren't any better, even though one was critical, and those usually held promise for passionate carefully constructed arguments. Written by someone named Sally Floyd, she lambasted Captain America throughout the entire editorial because, apparently, he had not added her as a friend on MySpace. It was so ridiculous that Anna wondered if was some sort of bizarre joke.

The other editorial was simply dull; just a Norah Winters lavishing praise on someone known as Carlie Cooper for unexplained reasons. Apparently, this Carlie was also perfect for a guy named Peter Parker that Norah liked, but was willing to let Carlie have, because Carlie was so special. Strangely, the subject of _why_ Carlie was so perfect for Peter was not elaborated upon.

Anna threw down the paper in disgust, bored by reading an editorial that waxed lyrical about this Carlie, as if she were the female reincarnation of Jesus Christ. Of course, this paper was _Frontline_, which wasn't as respectable as, say, _The Daily Bugle_, but she would've expected some degree of professionalism.

The bell rang again, echoing throughout the halls. Grabbing her books, Anna strode to the teacher's desk and stood there, unsure about what else to do. She watch as the students filed into the room, a few looking at her with puzzled expressions, as if they didn't understand her purpose for being there. Affixing an unimpressed expression on her face, she waited.

A tall muscular man walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. He had a handsome face, with a chiseled jaw, tan skin, and sleek black hair that glinted blue under the lights. He wore khakis with a dark green shirt and a black tie, and looked as if he might be of Native American descent.

"Students," he greeted them with an ironic smile. "Welcome to another day of expanding your knowledge." He raised an arm in Anna's direction. "We have a new student." He nodded at Anna. "Why don't you introduce yourself?"

"Anna Marie Keller." She said it flatly to avoid letting any panic seep into her tone. The lighting seemed too harsh, burning down onto her skin, and she felt as if she were slipping away, drifting out of her own body to someplace else. Luckily for her, Mr. Proudstar didn't like to waste time, and drew the attention from her nearly instantly.

"All right, good for you. I am Mr. Proudstar, your history teacher. Take a seat at the back of the classroom, by Mr. Drake." His enthusiastic demeanor was obviously feigned.

"Who?" Anna arched an eyebrow.

"Oh. The kid with the ridiculous haircut," Proudstar informed her swiftly. He turned to the rest of the class. "Page one hundred and seventeen in your textbooks, please."

Scanning the back of the room, Anna moved swiftly down the aisle, then stopped beside the desk of a boy whose blonde hair hung long and shaggy, reaching his jawline, with a pair of sunglasses perched upon his head. Considering that they were indoors, Anna was uncertain about the point of the protective eyewear was. His contemptuous brown gaze met hers as she approached him.

"My hair _is not_ ridiculous!" He hissed, appearing insulted at the insinuation.

"Just tell who this 'Drake' is, please." Anna didn't have the patience to deal with wounded egos.

He jabbed a manicured finger to the left. "_There_!"

Anna continued in the direction that he pointed, finding herself walking towards the boy with blue hair from the cafeteria the previous evening. He watched her approach, merely observing her, saying nothing. To be honest, Anna felt that this was the nicest thing he could do at the moment, even though she doubted that was his intent; she didn't want to have to talk to anyone until all the butterflies had left her stomach. She ignored his gaze, flipping to the correct page in her book, and taking notes while Mr. Proudstar lectured on Dwight Eisenhower's presidency, using the Smart Board at the front of the room. The rest of the class passed uneventfully.

When the bell rang, Anna proceeded out the door with the rest of the class. She had seen the biology classroom during her wanderings earlier that morning, and her locker was fairly close by. She noticed, as she made her way there, that still very few students seemed to notice that she was there, and she was grateful. This school itself was bad enough without the added stress of a gaggle of adolescent boys gawking at her like she was some kind of sideshow attraction.

Upon enter the biology classroom, she recognized the teacher, Ms. Grey, as the redheaded woman from Xavier's office the day before. She smiled amiably at Anna, who walked towards her. Now that she was closer to the woman, she could see hints of dark circles under her eyes.

"Where should I sit?" Anna asked brusquely, not wasting any time on formalities.

The woman appeared mildly taken aback, but quickly regained her composure. "Why don't you sit by Scott? Scott," she called to one of the students, "come here, please."

T all and lean, Scott had chestnut brown hair, a strong jaw, and good posture. Judging from the remaining portions of his face that weren't covered by the reflective red sunglasses he wore, he was very good-looking.

"Yes?" He asked warily, glancing at Anna.

"Scott, this is Anna Marie Keller. Anna Marie, this is Scott Summers. You two will be lab partners from now on." She smiled at Scott. "You don't have to work in a team of three anymore."

Scott turned to Anna, his expression unimpressed. "Fine." He shrugged.

"The chapter we're studying at the moment is about DNA, RNA, and protein synthesis," Ms. Grey told Anna. "Today we're doing a lab. An experiment," she explained. "Scott will show you the ropes. You'll get the hang of how we do things here soon, trust me.

Scott looked rather unenthusiastic about the way this was working out.

"Thanks," Anna muttered to Ms. Grey, before she followed Scott to their table. The biology room was larger than the history room. On the right half were a dozen small rectangular tables, with only enough space for two students to sit side-by-side. The left half of the room was lined with counters, and occupied by six square tables, with sinks in between each two. Above the square tables hung yet another "Mutatis mutandis" banner.

"Hey, Scott," Anna said casually.

He sighed. "What?"

"Those banners. What do they- "

"It's the school motto." Scott cut her off. "That's Latin for 'The necessary changes have been made.'"

They sat in silence for the next thirty seconds until the bell rang.

Ms. Grey walked in front of the class, and stood there, a commanding presence for someone who seemed so open and amiable. "Good morning, class. I have resumed my position as biology teacher this year. We will start off this lesson with a simple lab. Today, with your partner, you will be extracting DNA from a strawberry. Read the directions sheet carefully, and don't forget to fill out your lab worksheet, because you'll need it to write your formal lab report, which will be due next Thursday."

Anna took the papers when the person in front of her passed them back. "Thanks," she muttered.

"No problem." The boy shrugged.

"When you have all of the papers," Ms. Grey told the class, "you may begin."

"Let's go," Scott said tersely, standing.

A few minutes later, Anna found herself sitting at square table with Scott and two of his friends, Julio Rictor and Shola Inkosi, the materials for their experiment lined up before them.

"You know, these strawberries look really good," Shola commented. "It's too bad we have to smash them."

"Yes," Scott agreed stiffly. "As a vegan, I deplore the waste of one of the foods I actually eat."

Anna noticed Julio and Shola rolling their eyes at one another, but concentrated on following "Step 2: Mix the salt, water, and Dawn detergent in the small glass bowl."

For the rest of the class, she mostly listened to the conversation of her three classmates as they discussed the Shakespearean play they were reading for their English class, only directing a question at her once in a while. Despite this distraction, Scott still did his part to help with the lab, and they were among the first in the class to finish with the experiment. After showing the result to Ms. Grey and cleaning up, they returned to their desks to work on the lab questions.

Despite only striding into the room mere seconds before the bell, her next class, trigonometry, was simple. Dr. McCoy introduced and demonstrated the methods on the Smart Board, then allowed them to work on several pages from the textbook. Because of the college students she had absorbed at Empire State University, she felt familiar and at ease with the methods, and had no difficulty with the homework. Anna saw Jean-Paul when she glanced up after completing the textbook exercises, and smiled at him, which he returned, very faintly.

When she tried this on Scott, he pretended he didn't see her.

She waited outside the door for Jean-Paul when the bell rang, her fingers itching to take out her cell phone and text one of her friends at DuPont's Prep, the urge was quelled when a tall woman with long black hair, obviously a teacher, walked past the instant she slipped her hand into her pocket.

"I wanted to ask you," Jean-Paul said when he joined her. "Is Jeanne-Marie . . . all right?"

The questioned perplexed Anna. "Well, yeah. Why wouldn't she be?"

Jean-Paul's face remained carefully expressionless, but his tone sounded a shade stressed. "Over the summer she seemed slightly ill. Dizziness and headaches and such. She even collapsed a few times. Has she been taking her medication?"

Anna stared at him. "I've never seen her, but I'm not her roommate. Idie is, though, so if you want I can call and ask- "

"Don't bother." Jean-Paul sound almost weary. "I'll just have Raymond check on her."

The two walked in silence the rest of the way to the cafeteria, which was certainly _not _silent.

"So, did you meet anyone cool?" Doug asked with a lazy smile as Anna sat down between him and Jean-Paul with her tray.

"No one as cool as us, of course," Santo interjected.

Anna shrugged. "Just Shola, Julio, and Scott Summers. And that Drake kid."

"Shola's a good guy," said Doug.

"So are Scott and Julio," added Victor.

"Scott can be really funny, but, you know, unintentionally. Did he say anything to you, Anna Marie?" David asked.

"He only said that he was a vegan," Anna replied. She started when the entire table burst into laughter. Even Jean-Paul smiled.

"Why is that funny?" She asked Victor.

"Because," Victor said between gasps for breath, "that's what he says to every girl that he thinks is annoying, so _she'll_ think he's boring, and won't bother him."

"We're not laughing at you, Anna Marie," Santo guffawed. "We're laughing at Scott's reverse-pick-up lines."

The lunch period passed in a blur of laughter, and afterwards, Anna made her way to environmental studies. The class consisted of copying notes while Ms. Munroe lectured. Surprisingly, Anna made her way out the door unscathed; Ms. Munroe hadn't appeared to notice her legwear at all.

There was an interruption in her English class. During their class discussion on _To Kill A Mockingbird_, the phone that hung on the classroom wall rang. Mr. da Costa answered, then listened for a few moments, then hung up.

"Anna Marie, Ms. St. Croix would like to see you down at the lobby immediately," he informed her.

An outbreak of whispers and mutterings started up when he said this, but Anna Marie just rose and walked out the door. While walking to the lobby, she came across Kitty Pryde, entangled in the arms of a boy she didn't recognize. The two were standing in a corner of the corridor that lead away from the classrooms, their mouths open and lips sealed over one another's, as close together as physically possible.(*) They didn't notice her, and Anna rolled her eyes, making a mental note to take a different route back as she strode past, eager to avoid her roommate's P.D.A.

Monet watched her approach with an almost amused expression on her face as Anna enter the lobby and reached the desk.

"You wanted to see me," Anna said flatly.

"There's a package here for you," Monet said. "Come pick it up at the end of the day."

Annoyed at what she believed to be the adults jerking her around, Anna returned to English just in time to receive the homework before the bell rang.

The classes were typical; formulaic and not very challenging for her, it was like a vacation after enduring seven years of the education at Dupont's Prep: a constant grueling workload and unreasonably high expectations. However, psychology was when she began to take an active interest in a one of her classes.

The teacher walked in a few minutes after the bell had rang to signal the beginning of class, and the room quieted when she entered. Her face held a cold and remote beauty, like a statue carved by a classic artist, and her figure was perfect, if not anatomically unlikely. With her long white blonde hair shimmering under the lights, immaculate white business suit accented by bare legs and white stacked heels, she certainly managed to capture the attention of the mostly male class. She walked languidly across the front of the classroom, her long legs stretching and high heels clacking on the tile, the only sound in the dead quiet room. Surveying the rows of desks with her feline icy blue eyes, surrounded by long dark lashes, her full lips, a blue-white that would have looked cyanotic on anyone else, but gorgeous on her, twisted upwards into a vulpine smile that failed to warm her cool gaze.

So this was Ms. Frost. Although Anna had seen the woman the previous day in Xavier's office, but now she was just as mesmerized as the rest of the class.

"Turn to page twenty-three in your textbooks, please." Her British accent was present, but did not distort her words.

The class did so, pages of books rustling. Anna flipped a few pages to "Chapter Two: the Genetic Basis of Behavior and Experience."

"The terms 'nature' and 'nurture' are frequently utilized by scholars as a convenient catch-phrase during the argument of the roles of heredity and environment in human development. This debate can be traced back to 13th century France," Frost began. "Some scientists think that people behave as they do according to genetic predispositions or even 'animal instincts.' This is known as the 'nature' theory of human behavior. Other scientists believe that people think and behave in certain ways because they are taught to do so. This is known as the 'nurture' theory of human behavior."

She strolled between the rows of desks as she spoke, deliberating to send a smile in the direction of a redheaded student who wore a black mask over the lower portion of his face before gracefully moving forward and elaborating upon her statements.

"Fast-growing understanding of the human genome has recently made it clear that both sides are partly right. Nature endows us with inborn abilities and traits; nurture takes these genetic tendencies and molds them as we learn and mature," she continued. "Scientists have known for years that traits such as eye color and hair color are determined by specific genes encoded in each human cell. The 'nature' theory takes things a step further to say that more abstract traits such as intelligence, personality, aggression, and sexual orientation are also encoded in an individual's DNA. The 'nature vs nurture' debate still rages on, as scientist argue over how much of who we are is shaped by genes and how much by the environment. The search for 'behavioral' genes is a source of constant debate. Many fear that genetic arguments might be used to excuse criminal acts or justify divorce."

For the first time all day, Anna listened with rapt attention, and copied notes much more copiously than she had in any other class. The other students as well barely moved their eyes from Frost as she went on her lecture until the bell rang.

"Anna," Frost said, strolling over to her desk with a wintry smile, "how are you enjoying your first day?"

For a split second, Anna debated to tell Frost to refer to her as 'Anna Marie,' then remembered the words of Jean-Paul, Santo, and Victor, and decided that she enjoyed life too much to do so. "It hasn't been all that agonizing," she said truthfully.

"How good to hear," Frost said softly, and put an arm around Anna's shoulders, ignoring Anna's stiffening at her touch. "Every teacher here also doubles a student advisor for a certain number of the children. As it so happens, Anna, I am your student advisor. Why don't you meet me later in the faculty lounge so we might discuss your future here at Xavier's Academy?"

Although the woman worded it as a suggestion, Anna had the feeling that it was more of a command. "Yes," she said carefully, wary of this woman. "When should I meet you?"

"At the end of your last class," Frost said, her smile small, but present. "Run along, now, Anna. I wouldn't want you to be late for your next class on my account."

The rang a split second after Anna stepped into the French classroom. Victor saw her and waved, pointing at an empty seat next to him. Though Mr. Guthrie, the teacher, looked barely old enough to be out of college, he was clearly in control of the class, and let them practice definite and indefinite articles using partners before going over several listening exercises.

"Was it bad?" Victor asked as they walked down the hall after the final bell.

Anna exhaled. "I have Ms. Frost as my student advisor."

"No way," Victor said in disbelief.

"Lucky me, right?" Anna sighed. "Any idea of where the teacher's lounge is? That's where she told me to meet her."

Victor inclined his head at the hallway on the right. "Go down there, and turn left twice. You'll find a lobby-like area with a couple of couches, potted plants, and a huge staircase. Just go up the stairs and the lounge should be on the right-hand side."

"Thanks," Anna said gratefully, offering him a smile.

"Tell us about your day at dinner," Victor said, smiling in return, "or Santo won't stop pestering you about nuns."

Anna laughed and waved before she turned down the hall, letting the smile slide off of her face. The meeting with Ms. Frost was not something she was looking forward to, and after this, she still had to see Monet.

When she had just entered the room-like corridor with the staircase, royal fanfare of a trumpet split the air.(*) She whirled to find that three ridiculously pretty boys were about ten feet behind her, one of them holding a trumpet above his head. Curling her hands into fists, Anna's body tensed and he eyes narrowed. What the hell were they doing? Were they looking for a fight? If so, Ms. Marvel's abilities were itching to give one to them.

A flurry of movement at the corner of her eye caught her attention, she turned back to the staircase to find that a beautiful boy, the huge white wings that protruded from his back gently flapping as he gradually descended, was looking directly at her. He was followed by two other very good-looking boys.

Anna had seen all sorts of mutants that days, but combined with the trumpet to announce the angel-like boy's arrival, this was kind of weird.

He reached the end of the staircase, his feet gracefully touching down onto the floor. Anna noticed with a raised eyebrow that his uniform was custom designed to have coattails at the front and back.(*)

He walked forward to her, and Anna watched his every move, prepared to slam her fist into his jaw, if necessary.

"Call me Angel,"(*) he said in a melodious voice, smiling a heavenly smile at her.

_What the hell is this?_

Anna did not smile in return, only stared at didn't dissuade "Angel" at all. "So then," he continued to smile, "are you ready to be _my girlfriend_? One kiss, and you'll be _soaring_."(*) He stepped closer to her, and took one of her hands in his. "Countless girls . . . would throw themselves on a cross to be with me."(*) He raised her hand to his lips, and bowed his head to kiss it.

Angry by his thoughtless invasion of his personal space, on impulse Anna reached forward with her other hand, and shoved him back, hard. He staggered back, gasping; she had hit him directly in that stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

"What the hell?" Demanded a tall boy with dark bronze hair and tinted glasses.(*) He stalked towards Anna. "What's your problem?"

The boy with the trumpet stopped him by placing a placating hand on his shoulder. "Calm down, Pyro. She obviously doesn't know who we are." He addressed Anna. "We are the elite of this school, known to students and faculty alike as The Hellfire Club."

His blase tone caused Anna to wonder if they were playing a joke on her. This situation was much too surreal to be genuine.

"Matt Jenkins is my common name. You can call me _Forge_,"(*) said trumpet-boy, adjusting his glasses. He turned to the blonde boy Anna had unwittingly offended in history class. "You've _already_ met Alex Summers . . . but we prefer to call him . . . _Havok_."(*)

Alex/Havok sent a disdainful look in her direction, then returned his attention to "Angel," who was still kneeling on the ground, wheezing.

"Forge" continued with his introduction, this time leaving out the unnecessary pauses. "This is Longshot." He gestured to a willowy androgynous-looking boy who had sleek shoulder-length ash blonde hair framing his face, a top portion combed into a small ponytail that lay on the top of his head.(*) He turned to the angry boy, who was scowling at Anna. "John Allerdyce, better known as Pyro."(*)

Allerdyce's distinctive hair caused Anna to remember that she had seen him before: making out with Kitty Pryde in the corridor. Boyfriend, she wondered, or random hook-up? She dismissed the issue; she knew next nothing about romance, and she had no reason to care, anyway. Besides, these . . . _people_, whoever they were, held top billing on her list of concerns at the moment.

"And I'm Quicksilver," a tall, lean, tan boy with spiky platinum blonde hair said enthusiastically.

"And finally of course, Warren . . . our _angel_,"(*) Forge finished, gesticulating to the beautiful boy, who was painstakingly rising to his feet.

"So you won't go out with me," he said to Anna.

"No," Anna said flatly. "At this point, why would you even want to date me?"

Angel smiled. "It just so happens that stubborness is a quality I very much admire."(*)

"Am I being hazed?" Anna asked in disbelief. That was the only explanation she could think of for this bizarre scenario.

The smiles of Forge and Angel faded slightly, and they exchanged puzzled glances.

"No," Forge said at last. His certainty returned. "Shall you accept our offer into our club, and join us in the Danger Room for celebratory champagne?"

"I do love an excuse to _toast_!"(*) Alex said to no one in particular, winking.

Hesitating, Anna considered the offer. It was a chance to gain instant popularity at this school, and have friends with no effort on her part.

However, this was just way too weird. What if this was just a set-up for some sort of cruel joke? And even if it wasn't, they obviously only invited her into their club because she was a girl, and found her attractive. She would just be some sort of sex object to them, not an actual person.

"No thank you," she said firmly.

Shock appeared on all of their faces at her rejection, and Anna wondered what they had expected, considering she had just punched their leader in the gut, albeit she hadn't realized that Ms. Marvel's strength would enhance the shove to that level.

"No?" Forge echoed in astonishment.

Not wanting to waste time responding, Anna wove around them to the staircase, and began climbing the steps, feeling their gazes on her back until she reached the top, spotted what she was looking for, and pushed open the door to the teacher's lounge.

* * *

**A/N:**

(*):

Yes, in "Misfits", Kitty wasn't her normal overachieving self. In this universe, she wasn't a good student, and she ditched environmental studies to make out with Pyro.

All descriptions of The Hellfire Club are from the book. I have no idea why Angel's jacket had old-fashioned coattails or why Pyro wore tinted glasses all the time, or why Forge used a trumpet to announce Angel's arrival. That last one is just kind of weird.

The Hellfire Club and their wacky ostentation really don't fit into this story well, probably because they were rather unbelievable in the book, and that ranslates over to this fic. Anna is rather rude because she has no clue what the hell is happening. Also, Angel's lack of respect to her personal space creeped her out. Of course, Emma did that, too, but Anna didn't shove her because of the stories everyone told about her in "Chapter Six."

So, feedback is great. How are all the characters doing, you think? Let me know.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** All chracters and settings belong to Marvel Comics. No profit was/is/will be gained from this page.

**Personal Disclaimer:** The opinions in this story do not represent the opinions of Artemis's Liege.

* * *

A spacious room with ivory walls, dark polished oak accents, an enormous stone fireplace, and Persian blue furnishings greeted Anna when she stalked inside, reeling from her bizarre encounter with the group of students who called themselves "The Hellfire Club." She was so bemused that when she flopped down onto the Montecito love seat, she was caught off-guard to see another person in the room.

"Problems?" Mr. Guthrie inquired drolly.

"I ran into a bunch freaks who asked me to be a member of their little gang," Anna replied drily.

"The Hellfire Club."

"Unfortunately," Anna confirmed.

"What did you say to them?" Mr. Guthrie appeared mildly interested, enough to tear his attention away from the latte machine that dispensed various types of coffee and hot chocolate, where he was filling a red china mug.

"I wasn't impressed, and they had nothing they could offer me," Anna responded, not quite truthfully. "So I turned them down."

"I'm not surprised they asked you to join them." Mr. Guthrie looked at her appraisingly. "They're all talk and no substance. But I guess a Southern gal like you saw straight through them." He caught her gaze. "You are from the South, right?"

"Yeah, I was never able to get out of there," Anna said, a touch of annoyance in her tone. "How did you know? I was just told last night that I didn't have an accent."

"You do have an accent," Mr. Guthrie corrected her. "It's very faint, however, just barely noticeable. Since I was born and bred in Kentucky, I can still recognize it in your voice, though. But if I was still in the South, I would think that you were a Northerner. And you said you never left the South?"

"Only to come to this school," Anna said. No, that wasn't right. She had gone to New York City with Raven . . .

"Well," a regal and cold voice said from the door, "I'm certainly glad that you did." Ms. Frost sauntered into view.

"Emma," Sam said, slight wariness in his tone. "I presume that Anna is here to meet with you?"

"Of course, Samuel," Frost purred, passing within an inch of his torso.

"In that case, I'll leave you to it." Mr. Guthrie walked to the door and exited, but not before turning to her and saying, "Nice talking to you, Anna," with a warm smile.

"Later," Anna said, watching the door swing shut behind him.

"Quite a handsome young man, isn't he?" Emma asked casually, fluidly draping herself over the gilt-frame Victorian sofa across from where Anna sat, leaving only a carved oak coffee table between them. Reclining back in the velvet cushions, the left side of her body against the rolled arm of the sofa, Frost looked elegant and perfectly complacent with her surroundings.

Anna searched her gaze and only managed to find a hint of cunning in her stare. "I suppose. But he's my teacher."

A cold smile descended upon Emma's classically beautiful features. "Yes, of course. But you must realize, there are exceptions to every rule. Our own Magneto, for example, allows a select group of students to do whatever they please and essentially treat this school not as a place of learning but their own personal playground. If you wish, I'm sure that we could negotiate and find a way to grant you the same privileges."

Anna stared.

_Is she for real? Is she really encouraging you to chase after your French teacher?_

Suddenly, Anna was overcome by dizziness. That voice she was hearing. Who was . . . ?

She had heard it before, she was certain. In her head. But she hadn't distinguished it from her own thoughts.

Her stomach plummeted, the blood started racing through her veins, and heat rushed to her cheeks as if she was going to be sick. Anna glanced at her teacher to find the woman's gaze riveted upon her, eyes narrowed. An abrupt feeling that she had just plunged into a pool of icy water ran through her, and all symptoms of illness vanished. She felt . . . refreshed, almost renewed. She calmed. Why had she even been worried in the first place?

Glacier blue eyes studied her for a long moment, before Frost relaxed. "Before we discuss official business, Anna, I'd like to talk about The Hellfire Club. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Samuel about your encounter with them. I take it that you wondered about their sincerity."

"I wondered about their sanity," Anna replied curtly. "Is there any reason why this 'Magneto' person cares about them as much as he does?"

"If there is such a reason, he hasn't informed me." Frost's eyes were speculative. "Though it's doubtless that he has his motives."

"Stellar."

"You were correct to turn The Hellfire Club away. They are nothing more than several deluded posturers acting like nouveau-riche. Worthington is the only one of them who truly comes from class. You shouldn't concern yourself with the likes of them. Your focus should remain on other matters."

"Such as?" Anna didn't quite know what to think of this woman, who possessed dangerous qualities, yet seemed genuinely interested by her.

An expressed that was much too self-satisfied for Anna's liking overtook the woman's beautiful face. "Darling, whenever I'm in a situation that seems even slightly out of my control, I always ask myself three questions: 'What do I have?,' 'What do I want?,' and 'How can I best utilize the former to obtain the latter?.' Perhaps you should try to answer those questions yourself."

Anna debated with herself if she wanted to be further involved with Frost, but her curiosity got the better of her, and she took the bait. " . . . What are you talking about?"

An intensity reflected in Frost's eyes. "Have you ever thought about the absolute extent of your abilities, Anna? I've read your file, I know what you can do. But have you ever attempted to go beyond that?"

"Like . . . ?" Anna shifted uncomfortably.

"Reworking your abilities to only remove certain memories or qualities from the subject," Frost responded promptly. "Inducing death at only a touch. Restoring life instead of removing it."

Anna couldn't tear her eyes from Frost. "I've never thought of that."

The wintry smirk that twisted across Frost's lips made Anna want to run as fast as she could out the door. "Consider it, darling. I would be happy to . . . coach you. I wouldn't want your mutation to have an adverse effect on your personality. It's already changing you."

"How?" Anna asked, unnerved at the thought that she had never noticed this.

"Your accent, first of all," Frost said. "I overheard you and Samuel discussing your lack of dialect. According to your file, you practiced your mutation at the Empire State University. Your accent all but disappeared because you gained the speech pattern of the North due to establishing contact with so many students from this area. But you most likely were barely aware of this modification because it was your own voice, which you hear every day."

Anna was too occupied with her own thoughts to respond.

"But you must realize, darling, your potential is measured by much more than your present abilities," Frost said, not paying a whit of attention to Anna's speculative demeanor. "There are levels of mutation, you must understand, assigned by the range of your abilities. To begin at the top, we have the Alpha Level mutants. They are the second most powerful and feared mutants. Alpha mutants have extremely powerful mutant traits without any significant flaws. Their level of talent it truly a rarity. Beta Level occurs if the mutant has a normal human appearance, or close to it, and their mutation is powerful, useful, but less controllable, compared to the Alphas. Those of Gamma Level are viable categorizations if their mutation is powerful but uncontrollable, and sometimes useful but usually detrimental to living a normal life, such as an obvious inhuman appearance that can't be switched off at will. They have the power of Alpha mutants, but their appearance precludes them from anonyminity.

"Delta mutants are like Alpha mutants in that they don't have any significant flaws. Where is issue arise is their abilities: Delta mutants don't have gifts that match an Alpha mutant, or even a Beta or Gamma mutant. Lastly, we have Epsilon mutants; they're rather unfortunate creatures. Epsilon mutants basically have no chance of having a normal life in society due to their major flaws. Worse yet is their lack of potential: Epsilon mutants also only have minor superhuman powers." Emma paused briefly. "There is another classification, though at this point it remains purely conjectural until substantial evidence is collected to support the idea. Omega mutants are, in theory, supposed to be the most powerful class of mutants. These beings have practically unlimited potential with vast control over matter and energy."

"Is Munroe an Omega Level mutant?" Anna questioned without thinking.

"Ms. Munroe is and forever will be an Alpha Level mutant," Frost informed her scornfully. "Whatever gave you a preposterous idea like that?"

Irked, Anna wrenched her jaw open to tell this woman where to go but recalled the advice of her classmates just in time. "I didn't think before I spoke," she said carefully, not allowing his anger to slip into her tone.

"Then there was no reason for you to speak at all," Frost replied coolly. "But that's beside the point." Her cold gaze pierced through Anna. "I think that if you were to learn to hone your talents, that you could ascend to Alpha Level. However, until you refine your abilities, you're only reaching Beta Level. If you wish to achieve the apex of your abilities, I would be happy to . . . coach you."

"I'm fine with just being average," Anna said, startling herself with her honesty. "I don't need to be all-powerful. I can continue using my mutation the way it is."

"Indeed." Frost's lip curled. "So you aspire to nothing more than mediocrity."

Anger surged through Anna's mind but dissipated at Frost's next words.

"Your roommate -Kitty Pryde?- she has the potential of an Alpha Level mutant."

Barely a second passed for Anna to absorb this new development before she reconsidered what she had said earlier. "I want to reach my full potential. And I'd like you to help me get there."

If Anna was paying more attention to her teacher instead of thinking about besting her roommate, she would've noticed the expression of predatory satisfaction that flashed over Frost's stunningly beautiful features.

"Wonderful," Frost murmured huskily, not moving her glacial gaze from Anna and drawing her attention back to the subject at hand. "You and Kitty Pryde are such contrastive people, Anna. The two of you have such separate ambitions, and I can't help but feel grateful for that." Although Frost seemed to be ready to say more, the oak door to the teachers' lounge opened, and Munroe walked inside. She stopped and grimaced when she saw the two of them.

"Emma." She gave Frost a brusque nod, and turned her attention to Anna. "Miss Keller. I see that you refused to heed my warning about the dress philosophy here at Xavier's Academy."

"Not quite." Anna opened her student handbook the the page she had marked. "I read the uniform rules, but I can't find the rule that I'm supposedly violating."

Munroe strode forward and roughly took the book from Anna's outstretched hand, scanning the lines of text. After a few long minutes of tense silence, Munroe's sapphire blue eyes returned to Anna's gaze, and her mouth tightened into a thin line.

Anna tried to ignore that part of her brain telling her that she just had made a huge mistake by undercutting Munroe's authority.

"Well, Ororo," Frost's cultured voice broke the heavy silence, "don't feel too bad. We all make mistakes, after all."

At that moment, nothing could convince Anna that Munroe wasn't contemplating summoning a bolt of lightning and electrocuting them both.

"And after you fix your coffee, and go to chat with Jean, let her know that I said hello, won't you?" Frost continued. "Splendid," she replied, without giving Munroe the chance to respond. She changed her focus, dismissing a fuming Munroe and gazed at Anna. "Now that I'm through with my piece, is there anything I can do to help you?"

"This uniform sucks." The words jumped out of Anna's mouth before she could hold her tongue.

Frost laughed, the sound reminiscent of small silver bells tinkling. "Duly noted."

In the background Munroe stalked from the room. Anna gazed at her receding back with trepidation.

"While I was looking through your file, I noticed that your birthday is this weekend," Frost said, her voice cutting through Anna's thoughts, and recapturing her attention. She removed a small jewelry case from her pocket. "So I thought that it was appropriate to give you this."

"Oh, no," Anna said, taken aback. "I'm basically a stranger, you didn't have to get me anything."

"On the contrary." Frost's cold eyes bored into Anna's. "I sincerely hope to get to know you very well during your time here at Xavier's Academy."

Anna tried to give Frost a smile as the woman pressed the miniscule box into her hands, but wasn't positive that the result was what she had aimed for. With dread in the pit of her stomach, she opened the box to find a pendant that hung on a rope chain reposing on a bed of velvet. The pendant consisted of two rings, fused together at the top, the smaller of the two looping within the other and three round-cut, small white gems resting between the two circles of metal.

"White gold," Anna said almost absently, recognizing the precious element from the jewelry her stepmother owned.

"With the finest quality of cubic zirconia," Frost said, languidly observing her from the sofa. "I apologize, dear. I personally favor diamonds, and I would've gladly presented one to you, but I worry that you would fail to recognize the value of such a paragon."

Though she had the distinct impression that Frost was referring to more than just a diamond, she didn't let her suspicions show. "It's beautiful," Anna said, unwilling to offend yet another potentially dangerous mutant again that day.

"The moment I saw it, I thought of you," Frost told her, smirking.

"I'll treasure it always," Anna promised, hoping that the woman wouldn't mistake her surprise at the sudden gift for insincerity.

Frost didn't respond, just smiled in a manner that gave Anna the chills, as something akin to victory surfaced in her icy blue gaze.

* * *

While walking briskly to the conference room, Raven pulled out her sleek modern cell phone and dialed Jason's number. He answered on the first ring.

"It's me," she said, without delaying to exchange pleasantries. "Xavier has several files on a disk in his office that have crucial information. Have our operative at the school retrieve it, please."

"Of course," Jason replied smoothly. "We'll act immediately."

"Thank you." Raven ended the conversation.

* * *

After excusing herself from the meeting with the predatory older woman and hurrying down the staircase, Anna wearily trudged to Monet's desk. The young woman watched her arrival with a strange attentiveness, but at that point, Anna was too tired and stressed to care. Strangely, in the process of traipsing through the halls, she had been overcome by a feeling of sudden exhaustion. Once she picked up this parcel, she was going to collapsed on top of her bed, hideous duvet or not.

Wordlessly, Monet handed her a bouquet of a dozen orange lilies, and it was only years of her previous boarding school drilling manners into her brain that caused Anna to murmur, "Thank you."

She didn't open the card that came with the flowers until she returned to her dorm following what seemed to be an eternity of moving sluggishly through the halls. There were very students about; she supposed that they must have been working on homework or the like.

Several tries of jamming her key card into the slot later, Anna pushed the door open and sat down at her desk, ripping open the envelope as she kicked off her shoes. She only required a moment to view the contents of the colorful celebratory stationary.

**Anna,**

**Father told me that you passed the entrance exam to an even more prestigious school. Congratulations, though I suspect the almost random transition must have been exasperating.**

**I'm doing well at college, passing my classes with flying colors. The food in the campus restaurant becomes redundant after a couple of months, but other than that, no complaints.**

**Enough of my blathering. Happy fifteenth birthday. I'm not sure what you want, so once you return to Georgia for Thanksgiving, we can go shopping together, and you may select whatever extraordinary gift that you like. Please enjoy these lilies until then.**

**Your Brother,**

**Julian Keller**

Her eyes slipped closed as she read the card, and she had to force herself to leave the card and bouquet on the desk as she stumbled to her bed. Anna could barely even comprehend the words, she was so tired.

She settled into her bed, and closed her eyes, drifting away into unconsciousness, but not before the voice spoke within her head once more.

_I like the flowers._

* * *

**A/N:**

Orange lilies, or tigerlilies, tradtionally indicate hatred, wealth, disdain, and pride. Anna . . . yeah.

So, to summarize this chapter:

Emma: You could be a really powerful mutant.

Anna: I don't think that I want to.

Emma: If you do what I tell you, you can be better than a lot of other people.

Anna: I will follow your every order without question.

Oh, be sure to check out the poll on my author profile page about this story. Thanks and peace.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters, settings, and other plot elements belong to Marvel. Any products or copyrighted material belong to their respective owners. I do not gain any profit from this page.

**A/N:** Reviews are always appreciated. Thanks to those who have reviewed already; I honestly could use some feedback.

* * *

Once upon a time, she had tried to escape from the white, hot room, before the walls had closed in around her, sealing her inside.

* * *

She didn't remember where she had fallen asleep, but she woke up in a place different from where she was now. Fear had coursed through her veins as she had been totally unable to recognize her surroundings. She stood and walked down the long hallway until she reached several doors. Se had stood there for a while, watching for any activity, but there was no sign that anyone else was around.

Strangely, with just a small push, the walls gave way before her hands, moving to allow her passage. As the plaster crumbled down around her, a feeling of déjà vu washed over her, but she was unable to place what was familiar about the situation.

The room on the other side of the wall was an office building. No one was present; the computer was switched off, and the lights were dimmed.

She frowned in confusion. Where was she? Why . . . who was she? An inkling just on the edge of her mind brought her attention to a wide window. She crossed over to it, and attempted to view her reflection in the glass, but to no avail. The sun was still out, too bright for her profile to manifest.

Movement outside caught her eye. A grass lawn stretched for about twenty yards, enclosed by a tall, black, wrought iron fence. Beyond the fence was a road, which, at the moment, was occupied by traffic in both directions. However, the traffic consisted entirely of eighteen-wheelers, all of which displayed the name "Stark Industries" in large, bold letters along the side.

She twisted her body and angled her head to see further up the street; sure enough, a short distance up the street was a giant complex where all of the trucks were entering and exiting. Presumably, Stark Industries.

Abruptly, an odd sensation overcame her, as if someone had grabbed her wrist and was pulling her towards the door. Frowning in consternation, she followed her instincts, climbing through the open wall. She walked in the other direction this time, going back along the way she had come, but going deeper into the corridor from where she had started. The entire time, the sensation only increased, and she thought she could her soft whispers, almost indistinct, in her ear, as she grew closer to her destination, though she did not know where this was. As if in a trance, she continued walking, a marionette pulled along by its strings.

The whispers strengthened into indistinguishable murmurs when she turned the corner. A long, blank hall awaited her, but a door sat at the far end. Anticipation grew in her stomach as she drew closer. This would give her answers.

This time, she was unable to knock down the walls, so she simply used the door. The metal knob turned easily beneath her fingers, and she stepped inside.

A pair of blue eyes, framed by luscious blonde hair, gazed at her balefully as she entered the room.

_**Get out.**_

* * *

Elongated fingers flew across the computer keyboard as Reed Richards glanced around at various monitors surrounding him, then at the still figure on the surgical table. With a frown, he quickly changed several settings, but to no avail: the figure upon the table remained unresponsive to any of the tests.

"Dr. Richards?"

Richards twisted his head around to find that Cassie Lang was standing behind him in the doorway. Despite the late hour, she was dressed in street clothing.

"Cassie?" Richards queried in response. "Oh, I'm sorry. I became so involved in completing these scans that I forgot about you." He had asked to accompany him to the laboratory because he had wanted to examine the Pym particle formation that allowed her to grow and shrink in order to compare it to that of some tissue samples he had collected from Goliath's corpse, but he had requested that she wait until he had concluded his evaluations.

"It's all right." The lab's lighting wasn't as bright as Richards would have preferred, rather, it was almost noir. But even with the dimmed illumination, Cassie's face was pale and drawn, offset by dark-ringed blue eyes much too weary for a girl who had just celebrated her sixteenth birthday. She paused, surveying the room. "How is Ms. Marvel? Is there any improvement to her condition?"

"None whatsoever," Richards replied, slight frustration in his tone. "Even with this Kree technology- "

Cassie walked further into the room. "It's been a month now. I wonder if she's ever . . ." Her voice trailed off.

"I know we've asked you before, but when you were fighting with Captain America, did anyone ever mention that they attacked Carol?" Richards watched the girl intently.

Wearily, Lang shook her head. "No. I never heard anyone discuss her situation until Tony confronted Captain America about what happened to her. Then there were all sorts of questions. I remember, a few, specifically Kate, thought that it might be a stunt to look sympathetic."

"They would think that," said Richards with disdain. "Those so-called heroes led Captain America think that everyone would willingly descend to their level of criminality."

He had barely finished the sentence before Tony Stark charged into the room, his handsome face stormy. He wore a suit, indicating that he had probably just departed from a business meeting or a press interview.

"Peter has betrayed us," he said, his tone clipped.

"What?" Richards demanded as Lang gasped.

"He realized we were tracking him through the Spider-Man Armored Fighting Suit Version 1.1," Stark said grimly. "Also, I showed him 42 upon his request. He believe that we were wrong to imprison superhumans with no chance of trial or legal counsel, and attacked me. Unfortunately, he managed to escape."

"Did you send enforcers after him?" Richards inquired.

"Yes. Jack O'Lantern and the Jester," Stark replied with a thin smile. "I did, however, order them to keep him alive, though I didn't object to . . . rough handling. We can make an example out of him, show the public and Captain America's thugs what happens when someone think they're clever enough to cross us, and by association, the Superhuman Registration Act." He strode to the surgical table and gazed down at the face of his fallen friend. "And when we find the person who did this, I will personally assure that he spends the rest of his life wasting away in the Negative Zone with the unregistered scum who dare to call themselves 'heroes'." He shook his head. "I still can't believe that someone would be monstrous enough to do this to Carol." He turned to Richards. "Have you finished the improvements to Ragnarok?"

"I've done all I can," Richards informed him. "With this clone at our fingertips, it will be the same as having a killer like Ultron fighting on our side."

"Wonderful." Stark returned to Carol's lifeless body. "I can't wait until we discover who did this. And when that time comes, I'll hunt down that bastard myself."

* * *

More fifty miles away, Anna Marie sighed and rolled over in her sleep.

* * *

**A/N: **

As the Civil War rages so close by, how long can our heroes (and Jean-Paul) last before they inevitably get involved? Whose side should they take? How should they get involved? Should they be getting involved in the first place?

And who should Anna Marie meet? If you haven't voted in the poll on my profile page, please do. It seems to be a race between Iron Man, leader of the pro-registration heroes, and Captain America, leader of the resistance.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable characters, settings, and other plot elements belong to Marvel. Any products or copyrighted material belong to their respective owners. I do not gain any profit from this page.

**A/N:** This chapter is dedicated to the lovely queenith2, who has always enthusiastically reviewed each update. Thanks so much! :)

**EDIT:** This is a re-post. For whatever reason, this story was only showing up as ten chapters on my profile page. Just wanted to make sure everything was in order.

* * *

The jab of what felt like hundreds of needles piercing every inch of her inflamed skin brought her to clench her teeth in pain. She vaguely wondered if her teeth would crumble to dust and fall down the back of her already parched throat, perhaps choking her in the process, if she didn't unclamp her jaw.

Something akin to electricity ran through her body in systematic jolts, the voltage seeming to grow higher with each turn. The energy cut into her skin, like it wanted to strip the flesh away from her bones. Each breath that wheezed laboriously from her burning lungs was a tremendous effort.

The strikes of searing force were coming faster now, the pain increasing as her form convulsed, twisting in an unnatural manner. Fiery pain raced over her body, so intense that her jaw ripped open so her mouth could let out a long hoarse scream of raw despair, but the shock was so intense that she was abruptly cut off.

Though she shut her mouth so quickly she nearly swallowed her own tongue, her shrill scream seemed to echo around her, resounding off the metal walls of the chamber. In her mind, the scream never stopped, just continued on and on until her throat seemed to be bleeding just from listening; it was if the cry was a sound bite constantly rewound and replayed in her head.

* * *

Her heart pounding, Anna abruptly sat upright in her bed, flung from the abyss of unconsciousness by what sounded like the final scream of someone dying an anguished death. She sat in her bed for several moments, attempting to regain her cognizance, wondering if she had been dreaming or if there was someone in agony abandoned out in the hall.

She stood, ignoring a wave of dizziness, and stumbled over to where she thought the light switch could be. Completely blind in the dark, she resorted to clawing along the wall until she found the location of the miniature lever.

The sudden brightness was an assault on her eyes, and Anna blinked several times to allow her pupils to adjust to the illumination. With a surge of anxiety, she turned to the bed of her roommate, where Kitty lay, nesting beneath that tacky beach comforter. Though the scream had sounded distant, what if sleep had disoriented her senses? No, she wouldn't stand to be reduced to monitoring Kitty's makeout sessions, but she had to ascertain that her roommate was safe.

Steeling herself for gore and hysteria, Anna strode across the room and stood over Kitty's bed. Swallowing, Anna ripped the comforter off of Kitty's slumbering form.

The other girl stirred but didn't awake. Anna was both relieved and bemused to see that her roommate was completely fine; her typically girly, yellow, flowered pajamas weren't besmirched with a single drop of blood, nor was she grievously injured.

Throwing the comforter unceremoniously over her roommate once more, Anna frowned and turned to look at her alarm clock for the first time since she had awoke. At the moment it was half past midnight; she must have slept through dinner and the rest of the evening.

With a sigh, Anna returned to her bed, but rather than climbing under the covers, she knelt before her trunk, which doubled as her bedside table. She removed her alarm clock from the surface and snapped open the metal latches, lifting the lid of the carrier.

Swiftly, she separated the items she was searching for from the rest of the contents: a plum-colored, short-sleeved shirt; a black, tracksuit-style hoodie; her favorite pair of classic, black jeans; a heavy, police-style flashlight; and a pair Tod's sneakers in ivory and sapphire blue.

She changed clothes in barely a minute, then grabbed the flashlight, her key card, and- just in case she did find someone -her cell phone, before exiting the dorm, clicking the door shut behind her.

The halls, silent and dark, now seemed eerie and threatening, and Anna had to remind herself several times that she now had strength on par with the Mighty Thor and shouldn't be spooked by a few shadows. Time passed slowly in the dark, and it felt as if she was meandering throughout the corridors, shining her flashlight into the murky corners and listening to her solitary footsteps echo on the marble for an eternity.

She turned the corner in one hall to find herself approaching an intersection in the network of hallways. The hall that led forward was illuminated halfway through, revealing classroom that were all shut tightly, except for one at the very end of the hallway. The door stood wide open, and Anna could see movement but was unable to recognize any of the figures from her brief glimpses. Careful to keep to the shadows, she crept to the arch that was present at the beginning of every corridor, peering out from behind the wall that supported the arch, jutting out about two feet and thus creating a small corner.

This may have been foresight on her part, because three figures filed out of the room, and then began to walk abreast down the hall: Angel, Longshot, and Pyro/John.

None of them appeared weary or cranky due to the late hour. In fact, all three looked as fresh and crisp as if they had dressed only a few moments ago.

Longshot wore a pair of pinstriped, purple pants with mahogany, detailed ankle boots. A fedora patterned with leopard spots sat atop his silky locks, the animal print matching his zebra-stripe trench coat trimmed with white fur. The coat fanned out behind him with such a dramatic flare that most anime characters would cry with envy upon seeing him.

Angel was dressed more formally: a tux that was completely white except for the black bow tie. A detailed, gold pocket watch glinted from a chain upon his jacket. His shoes were glossy, black oxfords so highly polished that Anna, almost thirty feet away, rose an eyebrow at how much the leather shone in the light.

Though the outfit John/Pyro wore looked more suitable for a rock and roll singer during a major concert, he still could've passed for a fashion model. The black vest with slim, silver chains criss-crossing over the front was genuine leather. The vest complemented the dark red shirt wore underneath, the extended V-Neck of which dipped down to just above his rib cage, held in place by a thin leather cord that laced the fabric together. A wide leather bracelet detailed with metal spikes on one wrist, black leather motorcycle boots with the laces left loose, and stylishly distressed black jeans apparently achieved the "bad boy" look he was going for. And he still was wearing those pointless tinted glasses.

As Anna dashed back into the darkness, throwing herself into the corner of the arch in the right hall, her first thought was to scold herself for hiding, even if The Hellfire Club was really weird, and the members seemed slightly daft. Her second thought was to muse that she hadn't seen that much leather since watching a few minutes of _The Matrix_.

They growing closer, and Anna hoped they weren't going to turn down her hallway. She felt ashamed of herself for hiding, but it was just too late at night to deal with the The Hellfire Club's drama and pretentiousness.

"I've heard that Chord Overstreet is going to return to _Glee_," one of them was saying as they approached. Anna thought it might have been Longshot. "I'm like, 'Ryan Murphy, what are you thinking?' For Christ's sake, the best thing Chord Overstreet did for that show was leave!"

Anna nodded thoughtfully. Perhaps they weren't as clueless as she had initially believed.

"Yeah," one of the others said. From the flippant tone, it could only be Pyro/John. "I think they need to spend more time on the romance between Rachel and Finn. That's one of the most enjoyable aspects and best subplots of the show, and they seem to be giving it very little focus."

Anna mentally sighed. Maybe they still had some depth, even if they did like drippy romantic plot tumors.

"You're right, Pyro," a third voice chimed in. The last remaining member of the party: the vain and entitlement-complexed Angel.

Anna ground her teeth. Just his voice, with its arrogant tone and undercurrent of superiority, was enough to make her wish that she had punched him the face instead of the stomach.

Angel continued. "Quinn Fabray is my favorite character. She should star in all of the episodes. With her established and consistent personality, she has the potential to be the best character the show has ever seen. She's the one who should receive the most focus."

Anna rolled her eyes. Forget it, those idiots were hopeless.

Abruptly, she was struck by the sensation that someone else was waiting in the darkness with her, some besides the three Hellfire Club members strutting down the corridor besides hers. Exhaling slowly, Anna carefully scanned the black hallway, and when she was unable to find anything, held herself very still.

The Hellfire Clubbers were growing closer; she could hear each of their footsteps bounce over the tile. She lost track of what they were saying, though, as she stood frozen, waiting for a creature to leap out at her from the gloom. Anna hoped that she would be able to kill it by herself; she didn't want to have to ask for help from any of those cretins.

Then, when she could see three shadows stretched out across the small area of tile bathed in light, a low, menacing growl rumbled of the shadows.

"What do you three think you're doing?"

Anna started, and so did The Hellfire Club. Pyro/John let loose a few expletives, and either Angel or Longshot gave a brief shriek. Seconds later, Angel chuckled, and Anna could practically feel the smarm dripping off of his laughter.

"Oh, it's only you. I was worried that someone dangerous was stalking the halls at night."

One of the corners of Anna's mouth twitched upwards in a half smirk. If only Angel knew.

The menacing growl responded. "Yes, that would quite frightening, wouldn't it? If someone were to lie in wait, hoping to attack students wandering the halls when they should be in their dorms?"

This time it was Longshot who replied. "I can't imagine anything that would try to attack students in this school. I mean, we're the school's elite. Who would want to attack us?"

"Consider it yet a another mystery of your existence, Centino," the growling voice said.

"Thank you, Sabretooth," Longshot said graciously, apparently missing the sarcasm. "I shall. Directly after I defeat Rocky Balboa in a kickboxing match and star in my own reality television show." His voice was completely sincere.

Anna sent a sideways glance in Longshot's direction. Good Lord, that kid was strange. And what kind of a name was _Sabretooth_, of adjectives?

The menacing voice –Sabretooth?- seemed to agree with her assessment. "You're a regular comedian, Longshot."

"I hope not," Longshot riposted anxiously. "Ozymandias threw him out of his penthouse window, remember? What an awful way to go."

There was a brief silence following this statement, probably the others questioning Longshot's sanity. In the time to think, Anna wondered if The Hellfire Club had been engaging in recreational drug use.

Finally, Sabretooth spoke again. "Get to your rooms. I'll be talking to Lensherr about your midnight wanderings."

"You can go ahead and talk all you want, Sabretooth." Anna could picture the smirk on Angel's face. "But I don't know what good you think it'll –"

"_Go_!" Sabretooth snarled.

The Hellfire Club fled, their feet pounding on the tile. Anna could see their fashionably-clad backs as they dashed past the corridor she occupied.

Their footsteps faded, but this Sabretooth fellow remained where he was. Anxiously, she waited for him to depart, but she heard no receding footsteps. Minutes ticked by, but it felt like hours to Anna. She knew that if this Sabretooth wanted to hurt her, he would've already tried, but she didn't want to emerge from her hiding place in the shadows and look like a fool.

Eventually, though, fate decided for her. Jeanne-Marie's ringtone split the silence of the halls.

"_It's Friday, Friday _

_Gotta get down on Friday _

_Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend _

_Friday, Friday _

_Gettin' down on Friday _–"

Dammit! Why was her best friend's ringtone that annoying Rebecca Black song? And why was Jeanne-Marie calling her past midnight anyway?

She switched off her phone, feeling a wave of irritation overwhelm her, and stepped out of the dark, striding into the lit area of the corridor intersection.

A figure waited there for her, silhouetted by the contrast of the light streaming into the darkness. Sabretooth was tall and broad, but the light eclipsed his face, leaving her unable to perceive his features.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" He asked her. His voice sounded vaguely bored.

"I thought I heard someone. They were screaming." Anna tried to read his body language, but he was simply standing there, all six feet and six inches of him.

"Really." His tone told Anna that he didn't believe her. "Next time, Ms. Keller, think before you go roaming the halls past curfew. Otherwise, you're going to cast yourself in suspicious light."

Anna's eyes narrowed. "How do you know my name?"

"There are only two girls who attend this school, and I have already . . . met Ms. Pryde."

Kitty Pryde was not a topic she cared to discuss. Just the mention of the other girl's name made her stomach twist. "May I return to my dorm?" Anna inquired carefully.

"Please do," Sabretooth told her. "And from now on, stay there."

With that, he turned and strode down the illuminated hallway; she proceeded in the opposite direction, back to her dorm, her eyes guardedly flicking back and forth, scrutinizing the shadows as she walked.

As she returned to her dorm and quietly shut the door, Anna felt a thrill of excitement run through her. Strolling around the school at midnight was definitely inadvisable, but she couldn't shake the exhilarating urge to walk the empty halls again the next night.

* * *

**A/N:** My work on this story is kind of slowing down due to consistent lack of interest. I may update a few more times, though.

Still, make sure to vote on my profile page for who Anna should meet. Maybe we'll see an encounter next chapter. :)


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: There are a lot of opinions expressed in this chapter about various pop culture figures and religions. Not all of the opinions are mine, and neither are the ones that Anna expresses.**

* * *

Black.

Darkness.

All around her, she couldn't see. She didn't mind it though, because it helped her. Protected her, gave her a place to go, gave her a place to hide from herself and all of the others, the others in this white-hot room.

She needed to get out, she needed to escape from this place, but for now, she allowed the darkness to flow through her veins in place of blood, to consume her, to possess her being so she no longer had to remain coherent and feel the dull throb of her heart drumming in her chest, pain wracking her frame with every beat.

She wanted to let go, but something was keeping her here, telling her that she had to stop coming and going. She knew she had to stay, but she couldn't remember why . . .

* * *

The halls were deserted that morning as Anna made her way to breakfast, and she passed no one in the corridor save Munroe, who cast a disgusted look at her floral lace hose and heeled, slouchy suede ankleboots. When the punk-rock woman stalked past, Anna glanced down at her legs, wondering if her dusky, rose-colored tights combined with her taupe ankleboots matched her school uniform, but then she shrugged. The only people who would even care were the Hellfire Club, and she didn't give a damn about what they thought.

Laughter, talk, the clattering of china and cutlery: the familiar sounds of a school cafeteria greeted Anna as she walked in the door. To appease her rumbling stomach, she didn't stop at the table first, but instead went straight to stand in line for food. Again, she noticed that few students even seemed to be aware her presence. In fact, their lack of reaction to seeing a second girl at their school of all boys, with the exception of one student, was kind of strange. But then again, with the consideration that this was a school for mutants and of the students who consisted of the Hellfire Club, maybe this wasn't so strange.

While waiting on the line, she spotted Scott Summers talking to a few of his friends and carrying a tray that held his breakfast, which included bacon and eggs. A blend of anger, humiliation, and disgust for the both of them washed over her as she remembered what Victor, oblivious to the idea that she may have been angered by Scott's scorn, had told her.

_Vegan. What a prick._

Operating on automatic, she collected her food and proceeded to the table where she had sat the day before. Santo, Victor, Doug, and David were present, but apparently Jean-Paul and Manuel had yet to arrive.

"So Katy Perry is talking about taking a few years to settle down and start a family," Doug was saying as Anna approached.

"Oh, big whoop," Santo said scornfully. "Seriously, who cares about what that chick does? It's not like she ever made a big difference in the world of music anyway. Just another pop artist who thinks people actually give a damn about her love life. She's not even that talented. I think she was only marketed because of her 'huge tracts of land', if you know what I mean."

"I don't know. Some of her songs are pretty catchy. That's probably why her albums sell," Doug said.

"Is she the one who keeps on singing about how much she hates her ex-boyfriend?" David wondered.

Victor shrugged. "Meh, I think you're thinking of Pink!, but it doesn't really matter. They're pretty much interchangeable."

"So did you catch this week's _Glee_ episode?" Doug asked Victor.

Victor shook his head. "No, I don't think I'm going to be watching that show anymore. I'm kind of offended by the way the writers handle LGTB issues. I mean, they refused to acknowledge transsexuals in the episode of _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_, then they specifically presented the possibility of Blaine identifying as bisexual, only to use Kurt as Ryan Murphy's author avatar and give the concept of bisexuality as verbal smackdown."

"Don't you think you're taking this a bit too seriously?" Doug asked, seeming genuinely interested.

"I wouldn't make such an issue out of it if they ever backed off and expressed some of the 'tolerance' they preach about all the time," Victor replied evenly. "But they just continue with this black and white, straight or gay B.S. They 'improved' Santana by rewriting her character into a lesbian."

"That could be character development," Doug offered.

Victor laughed incredulously. "Rewriting a character's sexuality for the sake of drama and tokenism is a far cry from, 'character development', but let's try to continue that train of thought. Whereas Kurt, an openly gay white boy, is constantly praised by others and is rarely called out on his behavior when he acts like a jackass, Santana, the now closeted lesbian hispanic, is presented as a manipulative, slutty bully who is constantly trashed talked by her supposed friends."

"She does act pretty horrible sometimes," David volunteered.

"When other characters insult and belittle her, it's supposed to be viewed a retribution for her bitchy actions, but Quinn, Kurt, and Finn are often just as malicious as her, but their nasty behavior is hardly ever even acknowledged. It's as if the writers are trying to show that the catty hispanic lesbian needs to be 'put in her place,' but they glorify the catty white gay guy at the same time." Victor took a sip of his apple juice.

"I think you're reading too much into this, Vic," Santo argued. "That Ryan Murphy guy himself is gay. I don't think he hates lesbians or bisexuals."

Victor shrugged. "Some Protestants hate Catholics even though they're both Christians. When a supposed 'bad girl' lesbian such as Santana is constantly presented in a negative light, in comparison to Quinn and Kurt, who are arguably just as bad as she is but almost always presented positively and both are whiter than the Disney Channel, I don't think it's a stretch to say that there may be some bias involved in the writing."

"No offense, Victor, but why are you so invested in this topic?" Anna inquired as she sat down and was greeted with a chorus of hellos. "I'm watched that show. It's boring and predictable, the lead male can't sing and is often just autotuned into a robot most of the time, and it's just another rip-off of _High School Musical_."

"That may be true," Victor admitted. "But considering _Glee_ is one of the most popular television shows currently on the air, and it's demographic is mainly young adults, it's interesting in how it treats its minorities. Most of the characters who are white get central plot lines, but the majority of minorities are, in my opinion, just there for the sake of tokenism. They're like props in the background, except for Santana, whom everyone takes turns maligning, and I don't like any of that."

"Yeah, the way the show treats minority characters makes me uncomfortable, too," David admitted.

"Minorities have made great progress in politics and general influence in the country, why can't they be something more than stereotypes on a popular television program? Even Kurt is the stereotypical gay man from _Will & Grace_! It's very frustrating!" Victor lamented. "And if this is the treatment minorities receive, can you imagine how they'd treat a mutant?" Victor sighed. "It's enough to make this white gay boy really cynical."

"I agree you in certain aspects of your statement," Anna began, then she paused. "Wait, you're gay?"

"Yeah!" Santo cut in before Victor could respond. "You got a problem with that?" He cracked his knuckles threateningly.

_Right_, Anna mentally responded, cynicism resulting in sarcasm. _I have the ability to suck the very life essence from a person, which left a famous superhero a mere husk of what she used to be, yet I take moral umbrage the idea of a guy sleeping with other men. I'd be nothing more than a hypocrite._

Out loud she said truthfully, "No. Hell, it just means you like dudes instead of chicks. I know that it's not a choice or anything, but with the options of girls at this school, I really think you may be onto something.

"Um," said Victor, frowning quizzically. "Thank you?"

"Speaking of gay men," Anna started to say, but Doug interrupted her.

"I just love it when someone opens a conversation like that." He grinned, and David snickered.

"What about the Hellfire Club?" Anna finished.

The table burst out in raucous laughter, and several parties at other tables twisted to see what the commotion was about.

David smirked. "God only knows with any of them. Though Pyro is dating your roommate."

Anna grimaced at the memory of the two entwined with one another, tongues slipping in and out of their mouths. "They deserve each other, the degenerates."

"Those clowns," Santo guffawed. "Nobody knows what the hell they're smoking, let alone what side of the street they walk!"

"Oh, God, they're ridiculous," said Victor, rolling his eyes. "Mr. Lensherr handpicks some 'elite'" -here he used finger quotes- "mutants and gives them a few extra privileges, and then they prance around the school like they're royalty or something."

"It must be fun, to manipulate people like that," Anna mused.

"Oh, it is," said Manuel with a sharp smile as he sat down at their table.

"We're discussing the Hellfire Club," David informed him, grinning.

"'The Hellfire Club,'" Doug repeated emphatically. "Whenever someone says that name, I picture a bunch of mutants dressed up as eighteenth century British aristocrats, basically operating as the mafia, and referring to one another with chess motifs," he said speculatively. "I'm not quite sure why that is."

"Probably because in the end, that's all they are," Manuel pitilessly. "Trussed up pawns of Lensherr's, who know little freedom beyond the limited extent conceded to them."

"You're in a good mood," Doug observed.

Manuel scowled. "They're assholes."

"They tried to recruit Jean-Paul to be a member of their gang when he first started here," David told Anna. "He told them he had seen corpses with more class than them, so they took offense. Then he began hanging out with us, and I guess that upset them, because they added a red shirt to the washing machine full of Victor's white clothes."

"How very menacing," Anna deadpanned.

Victor snorted. "I know, right?"

"You should have punched Jean-Paul in the face for that," Santo muttered.

Victor looked at him in bemusement. "We've been over this, Santo. Why would I punch Jean-Paul in the face for an event in which he was in no way involved?"

"It would've gotten back at Quicksilver," Santo insisted. "Plus, it would've showed them that no one could mess with you and get away with it."

"If sabotaging my laundry is the worst they can do, I don't think I have to worry," Victor replied, half-amused. "And for the last time, Jean-Paul wasn't involved in that prank. I don't think he's ever done a load of laundry, so he wouldn't even know about that trick. I have no reason to punch him in the face, and I don't want to. He's a good friend."

"Speaking of Quicksilver, did anything ever happen with him and Jean-Paul?" Manuel asked. "He never said anything."

"I don't think J.P. was interested," David responded. "Is Jean-Paul ever interested in anyone?"

"Not beyond himself," Santo chuckled.

"That's not fair," Victor protested, nudging Santo with his elbow. "He can't help the way he looks." He turned to Manuel. "And no, he always thought that Quicksilver was a jackass. As for Mr. Logan and his young, pretty assistant, on the other hand- "

"Mr. Logan?" Anna interrupted. The name sounded familiar. "Who is he, again?"

"He's the Phys. Ed. teacher," Doug said. "Of course, here Phys. Ed. is mostly hand-to-hand combat. But once every three classes, either Magneto or Professor Xavier instructs us about using our powers."

"Paige Guthrie is the younger sister of Sam and Elizabeth Guthrie. Respectively, the French teacher and the Home Ec teacher." David said.

_Home Ec?_ Anna barely contained her scoff.

"And Paige is taking a few classes at the local university and helping our Mr. Logan on her days off," explained Victor.

"When you're in Mr. Logan's class today, don't mouth off to him," Santo warned her.

"Is he scary?" Anna asked, wondering if she should be more concerned than she was, with the consideration that her voicebox seemed to now operate independently of her brain.

"Picture Hugh Jackman, but less _Oklahoma!_ and more sharp metal blades," David answered seriously. "He can cut through iron with his claws. Or his sideburns."

"He's the best at what he does," Santo informed her. "And what he does . . . isn't very nice."

Before Anna could respond to that rather vague statement, the bell rang, signaling the end of breakfast and demanding that the students proceed to their first class.

* * *

Anna barely noticed when history class ended or began, lulled halfway to sleep by the History Channel special about daily life in the fifties. Her later night escapades caught up with her as she hardly was cognizant enough to fill out the notes about the movie that her class has been assigned to complete. Biology turned out to be a different story.

An odd twisting sensation settled in her stomach when Scott took his seat next to her at their table. She glanced quickly at him, trying to allow only boredom to show in her eyes, but he seemed to notice her gaze, brief as it was, from behind his reflective red sunglasses.

"Yes?" He asked, slight irritation in his tone.

"Do tell, vegan, how did those pigs taste for breakfast?" The barb slipped off her tongue, and Anna, while furious with herself to allow insight to her own feelings, was relieved that her voice was mocking, and did not suggest any hurt or vulnerability.

He turned his head toward her, but regrettably, she was unable to glean any sort of emotion from his face due to those glasses. "I guess Santo and Victor told you about me discouraging you."

_Discouraging me?_ Anna resisted the urge to tell Summers that he was no great shakes, either, and he didn't have to worry about her being interested in him."Yeah. Tell me, Scott, am I too _boring_ for you?" My God, why was she wasting her time on this random guy? Was she _flirting_ with him?

"Too snobby, actually," Scott said flatly.

That hadn't been the answer she had expected. "Elaborate, please."

They were both sitting with their eyes straight ahead, now, as if it pained the both of them to look at each other.

"During the entire class yesterday, you just sat sneering at us. You barely spoke to us," Scott said, his tone annoyed.

"Exactly what should I have said?" Anna questioned incredulously. "The three of you seemed to be best buddies and were talking about a theatrical performance in which a man strangles his wife due to some flimsy evidence that she was cheating on him. I've never even seen a play. How was I supposed to comment?"

"You've never seen a play?" Scott looked at her oddly.

"I've seen musicals," Anna said, slightly defensive. "And speaking of musicals, what about the gym teacher here who's secretly Hugh Jackman but with less interest in music than ass kicking?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Scott replied with disapproval in his tone. "I think Mr. Logan would be pretty interested in _The Boy From Oz_, particularly if he was Greg Connell and J.P. was Peter Allen."

"J.P.? Jean-Paul?" Anna rose her eyebrows.

"Who else?" Scott asked, slightly cross.

Class began, and Anna didn't have much of a chance puzzle on what he had said.

Later, though, in the midst of examining the structure of DNA beneath the microscopes, Shola invited her to join them on an escapade the next day.

"On certain Saturdays, the school buses the students down to Riverdale, the town a little ways away from here, so we can roam the streets of the town, and remember that we have a place in society," Shola explained as Julio attempted to focus the microscope lens and Scott watched, unimpressed and attempted to give instructions. "Want to hang out with us?"

Anna smiled at the three of them and though she looked at all of them, she focused on Scott in particular. "I'd be honored."

* * *

During lunch that day, she raised the topic of the day trip. "Are any of you going?"

The table responded with collective head shaking, and Anna inwardly sighed. _Time to interact with more strangers, I guess. One of whom thinks I'm snob. _Annoyed, she viciously stabbed her fork into her pasta.

"If we've received a detention, or our G.P.A is below a three-point-oh, we're not allowed on any extracurricular trips," David elaborated. "It's detention that's preventing all of us from going on the trip. Well, except for Jean-Paul."

"I was just assigned a detention today," Jean-Paul said tonelessly, stabbing a cherry tomato in his salad. "With Mr. Logan."

The rest of the table exchanged glances, but Jean-Paul didn't appear to notice or care.

* * *

When Anna walked into the girls' locker room to change clothes for gym class, a combination of dread, apprehension, and anticipation twisted in her stomach. Kitty was already there, dressing in her athletic uniform, and struggling to pull her shirt over her head, revealing her colorful polka-dot bra. Anna rolled her eyes and walked over to her locker, which had seemingly been assigned at random, judging from the distance between her locker and Kitty's: hers was on the far left, and Anna's was on the far right of the same bank.

After flailing her arms about several times, Kitty managed to pull her still-buttoned blouse over her head, then blushed when she realized Anna had seen her bra, but Anna paid her little attention and swiftly donned the uniform.

She had substituted the regulation black shorts for a pair of plain, black yoga pants, and the short-sleeved cobalt blue shirt didn't look half bad on her. Her new Asics, black with silver accents, were comfortable, and she tried to channel her satisfaction with the uniform into enthusiasm for the class. She hadn't done bad in her previous gym class, even if it only was running around a track and playing tennis and shuffleboard when the weather was inclement.

Trying valiantly to keep this in mind, she bound her hair into a loose knot as she entered the hall and proceeded into the Danger Room, where the Phys. Ed. classes were conducted. She remained uncertain of whether the name was yet another pretentious effort of the school to be arcane or if it was a genuine warning.

In hindsight, she needn't have worried, for her time in the Danger Room was to be very brief.

The Danger Room appeared to be a rather typical school gym of polished hardwood floors, fitness mats, weight training and gymnastics equipment along the walls, and of course, the obligatory "Mutatis mutandis" banners.

The students has assembled in the center of the room, and Anna was displeased to find that the majority of the faces were totally unfamiliar. However, she did see the blue-haired fellow from her history class -Drake? She didn't really remember- and that one boy with the blue fur whom she had bumped into. Someone waving at her caught her eye, and she realized that Julio, Shola, and Scott stood a little distance away. They were standing with the furry blue boy, and a few other characters Anna had seen around the school.

She joined them, and Scott and Bluefur looked somewhat chagrined by her arrival.

Julio performed introductions. "Hey, Anna. This is Jono Starsmore -" he gestured to a tall, wiry boy with red hair and a mask over the lower half of his face, "Remy LaBeau -" he turned to a very good-looking boy with longer chestnut brown hair and smoldering eyes of unusual coloring: red irises over black scleras.

"Good to meet you," he purred in a husky baritone with a New Orleans accent. He smiled lazily at her. "Jono and I are in your psychology class. Ain't that right, Jono?"

"That's right, mate." Jono's voice seemed to resonate around them when he spoke.

" - and Kurt Wagner," Julio finished, gesticulating at Bluefur.

The introduction appeared to bother Kurt. "_Mein Gott, sie ist hier. Jetzt ist niemand sicher_," he muttered darkly in German.

Anna was quickly running low on patience. "Hey, if you have a problem with me, you might as well put it out in the open. But if you're not going to take the time to resolve your issues, just suck it up and deal with it. I'm here as a punishment, not to play therapist."

The arrival of Mr. Logan cut off any potential confrontation between the two of them. A hush fell over the students as he strode into the room, followed by a young blonde woman wearing a dark blue velveteen tracksuit, of all things.

He did look like Hugh Jackman, Anna observed. But, Good Lord, the sideburns.

Wearing a pair of Wrangler jeans, a cowboy hat and a red flannel shirt over a T-Shirt for some hockey team, Mr. Logan looked no more of a teacher than Munroe. He didn't act like one, either.

"Okay, people. You know what to do. Find your sparring partner and practice." He surveyed them all with a steely gaze to ensure their obedience.

As Anna watched, the students paired up and selected gym mats, then began to assume fighting stances. She wondered how Mr. Logan was able to coach a class this size, especially with such a variety of abilities. No wonder he had needed the blonde chick as a teaching assistant.

Amidst the conversation throughout the room, Anna sensed, rather heard, footsteps approaching her from behind. She half-turned with a raised eyebrow to find Mr. Logan looking at her, skepticism written all over his face.

"So you're the new girl," He said. His tone was relaxed, but Anna doubted that he felt any friendliness toward her.

"Yes," she responded briefly, meeting his gaze evenly.

There was a short silence as a tension settled between them, uncharged but still enough to isolate them from all others in the room.

"I have that Pryde girl working with Wagner," he informed her, gesturing to the pair, who were performing some manner of acrobatics on a series of uneven bars, much to Anna's distaste.

"Mr. Logan," Anna said levelly. "If you were to present 'that Pryde girl' as my parter solely because of our gender, it would be a completely unfair fight. She would be in the hospital before the end of class." She smirked inwardly, taking no small amount of self-admiration in the truth of her words.

Logan stared at her with clear blue eyes. "Confident, eh?"

_Candian, eh?_ Anna returned his measured gaze. "I know what I'm capable of, Mr. Logan."

The tension between them dissipated as Logan shrugged.

"Fine," he said. "Go ahead and work with Drake and Starsmore." He pointed to the blue-haired boy and the masked teen who Anna had met earlier.

"Affirmative." Anna walked off to join the two, holding her head high and squaring her shoulders. It was time to show this ridiculous school what she was made of.

However, Drake seemed less than impressed her addition to the already established partnership. "What are you doing?"

"Mr. Logan told me to practice with you two," Anna informed him coolly.

"Wouldn't you be better off training with Kitty Pryde?" He asked condescendingly. "I mean, you'd be messing us up if we had to slow down for you."

Anna glanced over at Kitty Pryde, allowing contempt to twist her features. "No," she replied, returning her gaze to Drake. "I don't spar with the physically disabled. It's not a fair fight."

"Disabled?" Drake repeated in confusion.

"Oh, didn't you realize?" Anna smirked at him, but in the back of her mind, she knew it was wrong to antagonize Drake and mock Kitty, both of whom had done nothing to her. She ignored the guilt settling over her. "Kitty was born without a spine. But maybe one of these days, she'll have one surgically implanted." Even as she spoke, she knew her jab was out of line.

Drake's brown eyes narrowed. "All right. If you're so much better than her, why don't you show us your _mad skills_?" He layered the last two words with heavy sarcasm.

Jono appeared vaguely annoyed by this personality clash, his eyebrows slanting down into a frown. "Cool your jets, both of you. This is supposed to be training exercise, not a punch-up."

"Actually, Jono, I would prefer to proceed." Anna eyed Drake with derision as she stepped onto the mat and adopted a posture suitable for combat: turning her body to the side and keeping her right leg back, knees loose and bent slightly for movement, hands curled into fists, one at eye-level, the other positioned lower to block any punches, with her eyes on Drake. "Jono, if you would officiate, please."

He might've sighed, but his oddly echoing voice concealed it when he spoke. "Ready, steady . . . go."

The world seemed to blur momentarily before Anna's eyes before it resumed normalcy in an instant, though she distinctively discerned the impact of her fist coming into contact with a solid object during that brief time.

She blinked, still standing on a blue athletic mat, a few feet away from Bobby, who lay on the ground, clutching the left side of his face and groaning. Several combatants at the surrounding mats had paused during their spars to watch Anna and whisper, while Jono regarded Anna with a curious look.

"Okay, what's the problem here?" Logan demanded, scowling as he strode from where he had been watching Jean-Paul over to their mat. His blonde T.A. followed a few steps behind him.

"I became slightly . . . _overenthusiastic_ during our encounter," Anna informed him without missing a beat. It wasn't even a lie.

"Then you need to take him to Medical Bay," Logan told her. "Starsmore, you help carry Drake," he added, when he noticed that Drake still had not risen.

Anna scoffed. She didn't need anyone's help to transport Drake. Hell, she wouldn't need anyone's help transporting a fifty-ton train. "Actually, I- "

Logan didn't appreciate her protest and cut her off. "Just do it."

Rather irritated, Anna slung one of Drake's arms over her shoulders, and Jono did the same. Together they supported Drake and moved out the door. Anna set her jaw and looked straight ahead, not meeting any of the other students' stares.

They had been walking for several corridors before they came across another student. He was of medium height, with round glasses that reminded Anna of a hipster and thick, dark hair.

"Whoa, Jono!" He stared at Drake. "What happened to Bobby?"

"Sparring accident," Jono said with a side glance at Anna. "How are you, Hack?"

Anna grimaced, but Hack paid no attention to her.

"I'm supposed to be getting back to Mr. Rasputin's room, but I just heard Ms. Munroe talking to Mr. Guthrie," Hack said. "Apparently, some student broke in last night and stole a computer disk from Xavier's office."

Anna's stomach dropped.

"Hope you have an alibi." Hack grinned and waved, and the two parties went on their separate ways.

Closing her eyes to ward off an oncoming headache, Anna reviewed her current sutuation:

**1.** She was a new student at the Xavier Academy for Gifted Youngsters.

**2.** She had continuously caused trouble in the less than forty-eight hours she had been there by **I**) ignoring a teacher's explicit warning about the dress code,** II**) breaking curfew, and **III**) deliberately injuring another student.

**3.** She had been caught in the act at all of the above items.

**4.** Someone had broken into the headmaster's office the same night she had been wandering the halls past curfew.

**Conclusion:** She was screwed and could expect to be called down to the headmaster's office for expulsion any minute now.

With that cheery thought in mind, she entered the Medical Bay with Jono, allowing him to hold open the door as she easily maneuvered Drake inside.

The Medical Bay was a wide room with gleaming white walls and the sharp scent of antiseptic. A series of lookalike chairs sat in a row on the wall to the right, and on the left were two examination tables, pushed wide apart to leave a vast passage to another part of the room that had been enclosed by thick, heavy navy curtains spanning across the entire width of the room, hanging from ceiling to floor. Directly in front of Anna, several stride across the immaculate white tile, was a front desk typical to any hospital in build and organization, though perhaps not size. Beyond the desk was a brief corridor with several doors on each side.

Beyond the trio, only two people occupied the room. A woman sat behind the of desk, chatting on a cellphone and ignoring them, and a student Anna had noticed several times stood before a supply closet nearby one of the examination tables: the teenager whose entire person glinted metallic gold. He wore a white lab coat over his school uniform and held a clipboard, presumably taking inventory of supplies.

He looked up as they approached, and though Anna could have been mistaken, she thought his eyes focused on her in particular.

"Hey Josh," Jono said. "Mind helping us out, here?"

"Of course not, Jono," said King Midas, apparently named "Josh". He looked at Anna. "Anna Marie Keller?"

"Yes?" Anna replied charily.

"Ms. Frost would appreciate it if you met her and Professor Xavier in his office as soon as possible." He seemed none too pleased that he had to act as messenger, but nonetheless came forward and took over her job of supporting Drake.

"Thanks." She moved out of the way and toward the door, but woman behind the desk had apparently finished her phone call and intercepted her.

Though the woman was young, pretty, and smiled readily, Anna found her general air to be artificial and didn't trust her.

"So are you the new girl I've heard so much about?" The woman asked with a sugary smile.

"Unless some other girl has transferred here without my knowledge, I would imagine so," Anna said flatly.

The woman took no notice of Anna's impertinent manner and proceeded to introduce herself. "I'm Nurse Ghazikhanian, but you can call me 'Nurse Annie'." She giggled.

Anna stared, wondering if all of the staff at this school were drinking drugged coffee.

"Is Jonathan your boyfriend?" Annie asked abruptly.

Anna frowned for a moment in confusion, then realized that by "Jonathan" she was referring to Jono. "No," she said firmly, wondering where the hell this woman had gotten such a far-fetched idea when she and Jono had obviously just been aiding an injured classmate together.

Her gaze found Jono, who was helping Bobby Drake sit up as Josh shone a flashlight into his eyes. From his tense posture, it was clear that he was listening to their conversation and rendered uncomfortable by their talk. Anna was rather uneasy herself. "Look, I have to- "

"That's just as well," Annie replied conversationally. "After all, he doesn't have a mouth, does he?" Her laugh tinkled as Anna stared at her in mortification and horror. "If I know anything about women, it's that there's nothing more important than a man who can kiss."

As Anna watched Jono's hands curl into fists, anger and outrage boiled in her stomach. How dare this woman, this stranger, tell her how to feel and who to date? And though Anna was both inconsiderate and outright rude at times, she would never mock the disadvantages of another person's mutation.

Per usual, her voice processed her response before her brain. "Actually, I don't care who I date as long as it's another mutant." Taking a gamble about Annie's genetics, she added gelidly, "I would never date a human, even if he could kiss. It would be below me, to date a member of a lesser species."

Annie gasped and looked highly affronted, while the three males, even Drake, sent her bemused stares. For her part, Anna simply turned on her heel and stalked out the door.

When she had stormed down several halls to Xavier's office, safely away from the psychotic nurse and her shallow opinions, Anna shook her head at herself for her response. It sounded more like some elitist B.S. a Hellfire jackass would spout off than a scathing retort. Then again, her intent had been to anger Nurse Anthrax as much as the nurse had outraged her. There was no doubt that Anna had done a suitable job.

Her headache was in full effect, now. Rubbing her forehead, Anna arrived at her intended destination: the school's front lobby.

Monet St. Croix's desk was empty, but two other individuals stood attentively next to it. The first was a tall, lean woman dressed in a black catsuit that showed off her wiry muscles, with several guns holstered on belts slung across her shoulders and waist. Her rich red hair had been cropped short, and she regarded Anna with cold eyes; her entire demeanor asserted _military_. The second was a tall, muscular brunette man dressed in the same overall outfit, but he had seen fit to alter his uniform with short sleeves to emphasize his defined biceps, a red "**W**" arching over his upper chest, red swashbuckler boots, and a red belt with matching wristbands.

Despite their steely gazes, they allowed Anna to pass into the hall leading to Xavier's office without comment. Anna herself was both startled and suspicious at the sight of the pair and held herself tensely. Oddly, the lights in the brief hallway had been dimmed, rendering it rather ominous and reminiscent of the midnight wanderings that were the cause of this visit.

Angry voices greeted Anna as she slowly advanced toward the office.

" -_collectively_ and _unanimously_ agreed that helping you hunt down these anti-Registration rebels would be a violation of everything the X-Men believe in." The cultured Britsh voice was obviously Ms. Frost. Her voice was now cold and detached instead of the alluring purr she had used to speak to the class, Anna, and the other staff.

"Even with ninety percent public backing? And your previous eagerness to gain favor with the government?" A male who spoke in a baritone, his words precise and adamant. Anna didn't recognize the speaker.

"Perhaps we just know what it's like to be persecuted while you're _fighting the good fight_, Mr. Stark." Though there was little emotion present in her tone, Frost's words were positively frigid.

_Stark_ . . . Anna frowned. The name was familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.

"Ask the moms and dads in _Stamford_ if they think Captain America's still fighting the good fight." There was a definite tension in his words.

Frost scoffed. "Oh, please. Don't try to blackmail me with _genocide_. Not when this country's government is preparing giant robots to capture mutants."

Her words appeared to enrage Stark. "There is no doubt that dangerous mutants exist and need to be neutralized! I personally- "

Frost's tone was dangerously quiet. "Neutralized how, Mr. Stark?"

"This is accomplishing nothing. Both of you need to calm yourselves." The voice of reason: Professor Xavier.

Anna had almost reached the door when a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. A pair of eyes gleamed in the darkness, staring at her, and Anna realized that the amber eyes belonged to Monet.

The woman had been lurking in the shadows outside of Xavier's office, but Anna was damned if she knew why. Monet gazed at Anna with distrust and a hint of contempt. "Wait in the lobby," she ordered; her voice was soft but still held an underlying threat.

Miffed at being ordered around by God and everyone, Anna returned to the lobby, where she was once again viewed with suspicion by the two military types. However, her wait was cut short when the door to Xavier's office was slammed open.

A tall, handsome man exited the corridor, carrying himself with dignity, though anger was demonstrated in every movement. He had the appearance of the wealthy sort who had enough leisure time to work out each day and kept in tip-top shape because of it, with ebony hair and classically attractive features that often received professional cosmetic care; in general, his comportment reeked of money. He wore a fashionable white suit, undoubtably tailor-made by some famous designer, and a black silk shirt beneath, with no tie in sight.

At his arrival, the two military agents moved to follow him. Possibly, they were bodyguards.

Charles Xavier and Emma Frost were not far behind him, and though their emotions were much more controlled, they clearly were not much happier than Stark.

Charles was dressed in a dark suit, while Emma wore a black sheath dress, of the shorter variety, but not scandalous, with a fitted, charcoal suit jacket. Her hair had been styled into a sleek chignon. Monet, wearing a white pantsuit, walked several paces in the wake of all of them, her eyes scanning the individuals alertly.

On his way out the door, the handsome man, presumably Mr. Stark, bumped into Anna. "Sorry," he said, his tone only slightly apologetic. Then he deliberated, studying Anna. "Do know you?"

"I doubt it," Anna said quickly, chary of the man for both obvious and unknown reasons.

"Hmm." He shrugged and went on his way, his bodyguards marching behind him.

Anna watched him and his hired muscle enter a limousine that reminded her acutely of the one Raven frequently utilized, and she felt a sharp pang of loneliness in addition to her headache.

"Anna." A graceful arm encircled her shoulders, and Anna looked up to see Ms. Frost draping her form against hers. "Let me walk you back to class." The woman fluidly steered her back to the entrance hall.

They walked without speaking; Frost's impossibly high stilettos clacked on the tile with each step and Anna wondered how she could convince the woman not to touch her any longer without being rude, and at the same time, steeled herself for accusations of the theft of the computer disk.

"Anna," Frost said with a smile similar to that of a hungry feline that had just happened upon a mouse caught in a trap, "at eleven o'clock to tomorrow, there's a group of students who will be visiting Riverdale, the nearby town. You are welcome to join them." Though her lips smiled, her eyes remained glacial, even as she playfully squeezed Anna's shoulder. "Isn't that wonderful?"

What kind of game was Frost playing? She most likely knew that Anna had been roaming the school halls last night. So where was the disciplinary action?

Unwilling to risk offending or upsetting the woman who could potentially lobotomize her, Anna carefully replied, "Thank you, Ms. Frost. I'm looking forward to it."

A satisfied sigh escaped Frost's elegant throat, and she continued down the halls with Anna, resting her arm across Anna's shoulder the entire time, while a glacial smile played on her cadaverously colored lips.

* * *

**A/N:** Lol, Emma, respect Anna's personal space, please.

"_Mein Gott, sie ist hier. Jetzt ist niemand sicher._" Basically, Kurt said, "My God, she is here. Now no one is safe."

BTW: At this point, not all registered super"heroes" have unmasked themselves to the public. Neither Tony's nor Carol's secret identity is public, but they are registered with the government.

All right. Anna briefly encountered Tony Stark here. But should she met Iron Man, too? Last chance to vote in the poll on my profile page!

Cookies to whoever can figure out the identities of the two other "heroes" present in this chapter! Or if you can figure out why Santo advised Victor to punch Jean-Paul in the face.

Read and review, please!


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! Feedback helps my fingers type. :)

* * *

The next day, Anna rose and was rather surprised to find herself looking forward to the daytrip into town.

As she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and splashed water onto her face, Anna mused upon her unusually high spirits. She didn't have to attend class, but now schoolwork was simple thanks to the memories she held. Of course, the lack of class meant less interaction with her peers, thus less stress for her.

And while Victor, Jean-Paul, and the others weren't able to tag along on the trip, Shola has asked her to hang out with him and his friends. An infrequently genuine smile stretched across Anna's face. They honestly wanted her to be around them as a potential friend.

Abruptly, Anna's brief sensation of happiness faded. Who was she kidding? As one of the two girls in a school otherwise entirely populated by guys, it didn't take much intelligence to realize that the only reason she had even been invited was because of her gender. And possibly looks. Shola, Scott, and Julio . . . they were no better than the Hellfire Club.

Of course, Shola had respectfully asked her to join them during the day rather than invading her personal space and requesting she be his girlfriend the first time he laid eyes upon her. So there was a distinct difference.

Anna exhaled impatiently and scowled at herself in the mirror. Today she was going to enjoy herself. No moping around or despising herself for something she couldn't change.

With a determined air about her, she strode back into the main dorm, but not before grimacing at her rumpled school uniform and resolving that one day, she would get around to wearing her pajamas.

"Mmmffggg," Kitty mumbled in her sleep, tossing fitfully, then rolling over.

Anna tried to push away the pang of guilt she felt when she looked at the other girl. Since her arrival at Xavier's Academy, she had been nothing but rude and, at times, malicious to Kitty. Anna had never thought of herself as a bully before, but now she was beginning to wonder if it would be accurate to apply the term to herself. Why did she find it so easy to disparage the other girl? Why couldn't she stop herself from mocking her, inwardly and outwardly, when she knew it was wrong?

In a futile attempt to distract herself from these uncomfortable thoughts, Anna turned to the closet and began the process of selecting her outfit.

The dark purple top with billowing sleeves and corset-style lacing across the front? No, too artsy.

Her tennis team T-Shirt from DuPont's Preparatory? Not enough class for a good impression, much too casual.

The red cable-knit sweater she had found buried away in the attic of her father's manor in Georgia, which might have belonged to her biological mother? Definitely not. It would be too personal, leaving her vulnerable, like exposing a gaping wound.

One of the outfits that Bella had bought for her, like a silk shirt tiered with ruffles across the front, and a cashmere cardigan? No. Those ruffled shirt were meant to hide the lack of figure on flat-chested girls, anyway. Girls like Kitty Pryde.

My God, what was her problem? Why did she have to razz Kitty so much? Was it only to make herself feel better? This was the end; it had to stop.

She assembled her outfit: a jonquil-yellow knit shirt shot with subtle metallic gold embellishments over the front bust and ruched, three-quarter sleeves; a classic, simple, burgundy leather jacket; a square, white chiffon scarf with a flower design woven into the sheer fabric, worn as a kerchief around her neck; boot-cut, dark skinny jeans that were faded slightly over the thighs; and ochre-brown boots, decorated with buckled straps of various sizes lining the outer sides, worn over the jeans.

After brushing out her hair, Anna swept one side of it back from her face and pinned it behind her head with a silver vintage barrette carved in a Victorian filigree style, then threw some curling gel into her hair to add some volume to her auburn locks.

Taking a step back to look into the mirror at the final result of her appearance, Anna was rather startled to find that her outfit and style reminded her strikingly of Carol Danvers, for whatever reason.

No. No, she didn't. She had no reason to try to be someone else, no to reason to-

She was hungry and was going to breakfast now. That was all.

But as she exited the dorm, Anna pulled the door shut behind her with much more force than necessary.

Her footsteps echoed on the marble stairs, and she took the steps fast, though she was in no particular hurry. Anna enjoyed the sound of her stacked heels clattering on the hard surface.

When she arrived in one of the main hallways, she found a large cardboard box filled to the brim with magazines. One of them, an issue of _Psychology Today_ that sat on the top of the pile, drew her attention. The cover was titled "Revenge of the Introvert" and the picture displayed on the front depicted a teenage girl with her black hair hanging down in front of her face, the dark tresses only parted to leave one eye glaring out. The image reminded Anna of posters she had seen of that girl from the movie _The Ring_, thus piquing her interest.

She withdrew the magazine from the pile and flipped to the page that featured the cover story. About two-thirds of the way through the article, she was started into cognizance by two arguing voices growing louder.

"- just give me a chance, and I'll prove myself to you -" a tenor, tense and somewhat annoyed, speaking quickly, as if he wasn't thinking about what he was saying.

"- for Christ's sake, just leave this alone, neither of us actually want -" this voice was lower, slightly more mellow, and pleasing to the ears, but there was a flat, emotionless aspect to it. The tone sounded familiar, as if she should recognize it . . .

"- can give you anything you'll dream of -"

"- _not_ your trophy wife _or_ your_ ingénue_!"

Anna turned to find that she was no longer alone in the hall; striding along the corridor toward her were Jean-Paul and one of the Hellfire Clubbers- Mercury, or whatever his vapid, uncreative codename had been. However, they appeared to be so intensely focused on each other and their argument to pay much attention to her.

"- don't understand you," Mercury was saying, but Jean-Paul cut him off.

"_I never asked you to try_." There was such anger and frustration in his voice that Anna stared at him; Mercury also appeared startled.

"Whatever." Mercury's form blurred, and Anna blinked, but he was gone before she opened her eyes again.

She glanced at Jean-Paul. "Was he trying to sabotage your laundry as well?"

A brief smile brought fleeting youth to Jean-Paul's features. "No. His intentions have more to do with the people whom I spend time with rather than the clothes I wear."

"Mercury just won't stop trying to recruit you, huh?" Anna arched an eyebrow as she joined Jean-Paul in his walk down the corridor, still holding the magazine.

"'Mercury?'" Jean-Paul repeated blankly. "Oh, you must be referring to Quicksilver."

Anna grimaced. "Will the Hellfire Club be visiting town too, or do they think themselves too good for that?"

"Oh, they'll be coming along with the main group," Jean-Paul said with a mirthless smile. "Angel and Longshot would just _die_ if they didn't have the chance to peruse vintage clothing stores."

"What does 'vintage' even mean, anyway?" Anna wondered randomly.

Jean-Paul shrugged. "I don't know, and I don't really care. But I talked to Jeanne-Marie this morning, and she said that Idie, Neena, and she sent a care package for your birthday. It should be arriving soon."

Anna blinked, remembering that today was actually her birthday. And during such a happy time, too.

They turned the corner to the cafeteria, and typical dining noises greeted them.

"That was kind of them," Anna said. A thought occurred to her. "Jeanne-Marie tried to call me the night before last. Did she sound all right?"

A frown settled upon Jean-Paul's elegant brow. "I don't know. When I speak to her on the phone, her voice sounds dissonant, and her responses seem vague, as if she's barely paying attention. I'm beginning to worry about her," he admitted.

"I'll call her this afternoon," Anna vowed. She continued to the dining hall, but paused when she realized that Jean-Paul was no longer by her side. "Aren't you coming to breakfast?"

He shook his head. "No. I have to report to Mr. Logan's office for my detention." He turned. "Later, Anna."

"So long." Anna proceeded into the cafeteria on her own. Only about half the tables were full; Anna supposed that most of the kids planning to go on the trip were still sleeping and would only rise at the last minute and then buy breakfast at a coffee shop or elsewhere.

She spotted Jono as she navigated her way to her usual table and hesitated, recalling the encounter with Nurse Anthrax.

Resolved to confront her problems, Anna straightened her spine and proceeded over him. He, Gambit, and Scott were sitting at a table, but as she watched, they waved, calling out and walked over to another table to speak with King Midas. Joshua, if memory served.

The occurrence presented Anna for the cleanest opportunity to speak to Jono: briefly and without an audience. She could take that.

"Hey, Jono," she greeted him, sliding into the chair in front of him.

Jono glanced upwards from some sort of game with playing cards, possibly solitare. "Yes?"

"Look, I know I should have said something in your defense yesterday, but to be somewhat honest, this school is really damn weird," Anna began, moderating her tone so her voice sounded relatively friendly rather than dismissive. "But I know I messed up, and Nurse Anthrax was totally out of line to say what she did."

"Nurse Anthrax?" Jono repeated.

"A nickname," Anna said hurriedly. "Jono, let me express my absolute regret for the events that transpired yesterday."

His eyes crinkled in a smile, though she couldn't see his face behind his mask. "It's all right, love. You can relax."

"Thanks." Anna stood. "And Jono? Never let anyone tell you're less of person because you're a mutant. You are more advanced than any of them."

Jono's eyebrows rose, but he nodded. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

Anna was more than a little surprised at how well the daytrip went. She and the group of friends traipsed all over town, laughing at jokes and striking up random conversation. First, they dined at a cozy, old-fashioned chocolate shop and then continued to a shopping complex that was located in a single large building, similar to a mall.

For her part, Anna didn't say very much, but listened attentively and laughed often. However, she made a point of engaging Scott and several others in casual conversation at various times, though beneath her unusually blithe demeanor, even she remained uncertain as to what she was trying to prove.

The group divided for a time at the shopping complex for a brief time to complete separate errands: Remy and Shola stopped at the U.P.S. outpost to send a parcel, and Jono and Julio stopped at American Eagle Outfitters to look for clothes. Since neither of these options appealed to Anna, she found herself accompanying Scott to the electronics store.

"Please don't embarrass me here," Scott said curtly as he pulled opened the door.

Anna paused momentarily as she watched several of the Hellfire Club members walk past. Pyro was once again dressed as if he had just exited the Matrix, Longshot could have just walked off the top runway in Paris, and Kitty . . . her outfit was a pair of opaque, glittery, magenta leggings with knee-high black Converse and a long, white, button-down cardigan over a silky, light blue, metallic shirt with a geometric print.

The outfit was utterly hideous. Anna wondered if she had just closed her eyes and extracted the nearest articles of clothing from her closet, because there could be no other explanation for such a travesty of a fashion selection.

She was too busy sneering at Kitty's outfit to hear Scott's words. "What did you say?"

Scott shook his head, and Anna sensed that he was rolling his eyes at her beneath his sunglasses (Why the hell did he wear them all the time, anyway?). "Never mind."

They entered the store, which was typically arranged. The section by the back was designated for stereo systems, earphones, iPods, and CDs, with DVDs and television sets by the front windows.

A salesgirl their own age practically pounced on them the instant they walked inside. "Hello," she nearly purred, with an impressed glance at Scott. "My name is Trixie. How may I help you?"

As Scott began talking to her, Anna's attention was drawn to the television when she heard a chorus of triumphant shouts of "To infinity and beyond!"

Almost every television was playing _Toy Story_, all perfectly synchronized with one another. Only one television was playing a different program, in this case, the news, and Anna meandered over to that screen while Scott spoke to the salesgirl.

"And now, as the battle between the registered superheroes and Captain America's rebels continues to rage in our streets, more and more civilians are at risk for harm if they are caught in the middle of these high-tension encounters," the news anchor was saying as Anna approached. "We have a message from the Pro-Registration heroes to the rebels in the form of this video, which involves Ms. Marvel and several trainees taking down superhero duo Cloak and Dagger, who defiantly remained unregistered."

Anna stared at the television, shocked and more than slightly unnerved. Ms. Marvel?

No.

_No. _

He had to be making a mistake, there was no way that Carol could be-

The screen changed to show a news camera recording: several smaller-time heroes Anna didn't recognize were duking it out with two figures, one of whom was covered by a black cloak, the other bathed in such radiant light that the person only showed up on camera as a glowing silhouette.

Swooping down from the sky like a bird of prey, as an illustration and embodiment of the Superhuman Registration Act was none other than Ms. Marvel. Her blonde hair gleamed as she delivered a swift punch to the cloaked figure and smirked in victory as he fell to the ground. She spotted the camera and looked into the lens a dazzling smile as the frame zoomed in on her face, and blew the camera a kiss.

Nausea claimed Anna's stomach as bile rose in her throat.

* * *

The rest the time in town sped by in a hazy blur, and Anna soon found herself lying down on her bed that night, but she only tossed and turned, unable to relax sufficiently to doze off, her mind haunting by images of Carol. Her Sunday was spent largely in her room, and she only emerged for supper, neglecting breakfast and lunch. She didn't sit with her friends, instead choosing a lonely table in the far corner. Several time she attempted to call Raven, but she was unable to actually contact her.

Monday dawned much too soon for her liking. She felt too exhausted to apply makeup or style her hair, barely making the effort to run a comb through it. She sat through each class in a trance-like state, not listening to a word that was said. She completed none of her homework, but tests and pop quizzes were simple. Now that she had the knowledge of a dozen college students, nothing academic was a challenge to her. School had lost its meaning; she had no reason to attempt to work as she had at Madame DuPont's.

At various points throughout the days, her friend tried to speak to her, but Anna responded by with monosyllabic replies or not at all.

Fatigue had overtaken her brain, as her thoughts swirled throughout her head, a mix of memories of that day and speculations of how Carol could possibly be awake again. She continued to call Raven several times each day, but she only reached her voicemail.

For whatever reason, though Carol was awake, Anna retained the woman's physical strength. She wasn't quite sure of what that meant.

Carol's sudden reemergence devastated her. The presence of the supposed hero had reopened a gaping wound. Inexplicable anger toward the other woman tore at her mind, while guilt for her actions ravaged her heart. Anna felt as if she were being pulled back and forth between two different sides. Carol had been a part of her, their identities had been intertwined, and now Carol had reclaimed that piece of her.

Her headache throughout each day, and she had the strangest sensation that a memory was waiting, teetering on the edge of her mind.

* * *

On Wednesday, after classes were finished for the afternoon, Anna found herself prowling throughout the school library, searching fruitlessly for a book suitably interesting to distract her from her current predicament. As she turned the corner to stalk down the next row of tall wooden shelves, she encountered Victor, who was leaning against the shelf, paging through a text on literary symbolism.

"What's going on with you?" He asked immediately, not bothering with pleasantries.

"Nothing." The reply was automatic.

"So what, you're bipolar?" Victor inquired quizzically.

"It's nothing you can help me with," Anna said wearily.

"Well, I can't help you if I don't know the problem," Victor pointed out. "Look, if one of us has done something to offend you, I'm sorry -"

"It's no that," Anna said heavily. She sighed, thinking. Victor and his friends had been nothing but nice to her, and now he was offering help. Telling him the entire story would be exposing her vulnerability. But maybe, there was just some small chance that he actually could be of effective aid . . .

For a few moments, she inhaled and exhaled very slowly, measuring the pros and cons of the situation. "All right," she said finally. "I'll explain."

"Wait," Victor told her. "Let's go over here." He led her over to table, where David, Doug, Jean-Paul and Manuel sat. "Santo wanted to be here," he informed her, "but Ms. Braddock gave him detention."

Anna was slightly irritated, and maintained her prickliness even in her shell-shocked state. "What is this, an intervention?"

Victor shook his head and waved a hand toward the seat. "Sit down and share," he invited, his face serious.

Anna did so and began speaking, her tone slightly fast. "To make along story short, my mutation allows me to absorb the life essence of another person, thoughts, memories, health, superpowers, whatever. My abilities first surfaced during a terrorist attack, but as Ms. Marvel tried to rescue me, I accidentally utilized my mutation. I left her comatose because I couldn't control my abilities. She was completely unresponsive. But now she's awake again. She has her superpowers, and somehow I still do, too."

"Yeah, she been on the news a lot lately," Manuel commented. "Enforcing the Nazi Act, or whatever they're calling it."

"I don't know what she wants," Anna said, her tone defeated. "I don't even know if she remembers me."

There was a pause. Then Jean-Paul spoke.

"Would it be so bad if she didn't?" Jean-Paul asked. "After all, if she doesn't remember you, then there's nothing to forgive, is there?"

Several of his compatriots shot him odd looks, but no one responded to this riposte until Anna spoke again.

"It might not even be the same person. But of course, when I googled 'Ms. Marvel', it didn't tell me her real name. None of the web pages even confirmed if there was only one Ms. Marvel."

Brief silence. And then-

"Well," said Doug, squaring his shoulders. "I guess that we're just going to have to confirm it ourselves."

"What?" Anna stared blankly.

"Oh, I get it." Manuel nodded, smiling. "So, Anna, what are you doing Friday night?"

* * *

**A/N:** the joke in the last chapter about Victor punching Jean-Paul for something that was in no way his fault was a reference to the events of X-Men: Divided We Stand #1. Victor (Anole) had post-traumatic stress disorder thanks to stuff that happened to him while he was with the X-Men: being sucked into hell (literally) with his teammates and having his arm ripped off, constantly having his school attacked by giant robots and terrorists trying to kill him just for being a mutant, being attacked by a genetically engineered dinosaur specifically designed to hunt and kill mutants, and watching numerous teammates of his die.

So Jean-Paul (Northstar), Victor's mentor/friend, visited him at his house and tried to encourage him to come back to the X-Men. Of course, since Jean-Paul had been dead/in a coma/brainwashed while all of this crap was happening to Victor, he had no idea about the PSTD. So this culminated in Victor punching Jean-Paul in the face and blaming him for everything that had happened. Though Jean-Paul had no involvement or control over most of these events.

Ten issues later, Victor had magically recovered from his post-traumatic stress disorder, and hardly any writer since has even remembered it.

Yes, Tony's two "bodyguards" were Black Widow and Wonder Man.

And God, Anna had quite the happy birthday, there, didn't she?


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** The views expressed in this story are not the endorsed opinions of Artemis's Liege.

BTW: I couldn't decide on only one superhero for Anna to met, so I just included the top three. Read to find out! Also, new poll on my profile page.

And I'm sorry about the continuous re-uploads of certain chapters, but sometimes my author profile only shows twelve chapters instead of thirteen and stuff like that. I have no idea what's wrong.

Anyway, enjoy this chapter, which is dedicated to the awesome **Raven34link, **who has reviewed nearly all of my X-Men stories. You rock, Raven34link!

* * *

"I look like a streetwalker," Anna said, staring at her bottle-blonde, leather-clad reflection in the mirror.

"Nonsense," Doug chided her from where he was sitting on the sofa, configuring God-only-knows-what on his laptop computer. "You look much too classy to be a streetwalker. At the very least, you'd be a call girl. Maybe a Playboy Bunny waitress."

Anna brushed back a strand of her newly dyed blonde hair. "How very reassuring."

"You're welcome," Doug returned, glancing back down at his laptop and continuing to rapidly enter figures on the keyboard.

Anna resumed staring at her image in the glass. She wore the high-cut leotard of Ms. Marvel; the suit was both sleeveless and legless. An hour before, it had actually been a leather bodysuit the belonged to the Hellfire Club, but Jean-Paul had utilized his super speed and redesigned it into a rough duplicate of Ms. Marvel's uniform.

Some of the edges were slightly crooked, and the metallic gold lightning bolt was off-center, but since Jean-Paul knew nothing about fashion design and had only learned how to use a thread and needle that evening, Anna was willing to forgive him. Her own addition to the outfit had been a red silk scarf, tied as a sash around her waist, just like Carol. She had additionally been presented with thigh-high black boots from Manuel, but hell if she had a clue where he had ever found them.

Also, she really, really, really didn't want to know why the "fashion trunk" that the Hellfire Club kept in their meeting room contained several black leather bodysuits.

As a matter of fact, that was where Doug and Anna were waiting now for Jean-Paul to give them the word of safe passage through the halls. Jean-Paul was the only one fast enough to avoid Sabretooth and thus had been deemed messenger.

Shola had already visited and installed several temporary mental blocks within their minds to prevent any telepaths from reading their thoughts. He hadn't asked about their request, only granted them a kind smile and soft, "Good luck."

Anna sincerely hoped that would happen tonight.

The carved door creaked open, and Jean-Paul appeared, his strange eyes glittering with an unearthly glow. "It's time."

Doug handed Anna a black backpack, undoubtedly filled with electronics equipment, before hefting another one over his shoulder himself. "All right. Flash, Wonder Woman, let's go."

"I don't want to be Wonder Woman," Anna said, somewhat petulantly, as the group set out the door, recalling the few comic books Jeanne-Marie had convinced her to read, being an unrelenting advocate of superheroes. "Can I be Poison Ivy instead?"

"How about Hawkgirl?" Asked Doug.

"Who's Hawkgirl?" Anna looked at him.

"Oh, you wound me," Doug replied, deadpan. "What about Catwoman?"

Anna shrugged. "Batman's random hookup? I've never been very fond of her."

Doug sighed. "At one point, she was more than that. But these days at D.C., you get these lazy writers who think she's just a kinky lady in tight leather with a fetish for animal-themed superheroes. Of course, D.C. treats all of its female characters atrociously." The group had almost reached the end of the corridor. "What about Batgirl?"

"The blonde one was very annoying," Anna contributed.

"Stephanie Brown?" Doug asked, aghast. "No, no, she was great! How much of her did you read?"

"I could only take a few pages," Anna riposted. "I saw her when Conner Kent confronted her about taking Tim's place as Robin. Then she was clumsily killed off, and those artists drew her mortally wounded body in really ridiculously sexy poses, considering she was, you know, _dying_. I bet a male hero never would have been treated that way."

"Well, Jason Todd certainly wasn't treated that way when he was killed by the Joker. And oh God, if you saw that talk between Stephanie and Conner, that means you read Geoff Johns's run on _Teen Titans_," Doug realized. "God help you. I haven't seen such weak characterization since Chuck Austen's run on _Superman_. Okay, you can be Huntress, and J.P. can be Inertia."

"Speaking of which," Jean-Paul as they approached the end of the corridor, "counting down to three . . . two . . .one . . . time to fly."

"'Fly'?" Anna tried to question, but suddenly Jean-Paul had latched onto her arm pulled her into a blur of bright lights.

Seconds later she stood outside, before an older Hummer, the paint of which was a strange flat black, the rest of their friends surrounding them. Doug was wheezing.

"Dammit, J.P." He frowned in annoyance. "You keep forgetting that not everyone can withstand light speed."

"Sorry." Jean-Paul smiled in a manner that strongly reminded Anna of the Cheshire Cat. "But it's all just a rush of colors to me, if you know what I mean."

"I do." Manuel exchanged a long glance with Jean-Paul,and then smiled to himself.

There was a jingling of car keys from behind them, and they turned to see that their driver had arrived.

"Evening, kids," Julio Richter said, smiling. "Who's ready to party?"

"All right." Santo looked at all of them. Let's load up, men. And woman," he added, glancing at Anna.

"What are all of you wearing?" Anna questioned David as they climbed into the Hummer, noting their colorful, tight attire.

"Material constructed of self-regulating molecules," he replied promptly.

"That's why Jean-Paul is dressed as Dark Flash of the _Justice League Elite_," Santo informed her. "You should talk, considering you're wearing what was once a leather bodysuit. Weird that the Hellfire Club would have leather outfits in their little clubhouse, though. Taking their club name into account, I would have expected them to have eighteenth century clothing of British aristocrats with chess motifs."

"Wonderful," she muttered. "Why a Hummer?"

"This actually a Humvee," Victor corrected her. "It's just painted black over the camo pattern, and there's no machine gun on the roof. But it still has bulletproof windows and everything."

That explained the odd color, then. "Are all of you sure you want to do this?" Anna inquired to Santo.

He shrugged. "Why not? It's an adventure. It's about time us mutants made a statement about this 'civil war' between superheroes, anyway. And we've got nothing better to do tonight."

"This is dangerous," Anna warned.

"Living is dangerous." Victor joined their conversation. "We understand the risks, Anna. None of us would be here if we didn't want to be. Besides, Santo's right: it's time we get a look for ourselves to see what this war is really about."

"Does Julio know what he's getting into?" Anna asked Victor quietly.

"Of course I know," Julio responded, a grin on his handsome face, apparently overhearing her despite her lowered voice. "Don't worry about me, Anna, I brought a few toys of my own to play with."

With that reassurance, he started the car, and they began driving toward New York City.

* * *

"So here's the plan." Doug drew a set of what appeared to be miniature walkie-talkies from his backpack. "These are transceivers tuned specifically to be active by sound, so you can just clip it on to your clothing and talk to us. Don't worry, because no one else is going to pick up our communications. We won't be on the same air frequency. Here." He handed the small devices to Anna, Jean-Paul, and Victor.

"Just in case, I think we should have codenames," Santo said, "You know, as a safety precaution."

"You already have a codename picked out, don't you?" Victor asked.

"_Rockslide_!" Santo cheered. "Ba-bam!"

"If I have to choose, I'll be '_Anole_'," Victor decided. "I do have traits of that species, after all."

"I pick skills awfully fast," David mused. "Okay . . . '_Prodigy_'."

"And I decipher computer codes and languages," Doug said thoughtfully. "So '_Cypher_'. Sure, why not?"

Julio sighed. "All right, I think this is kind of childish, so I'll just go by my last name. It can mean a couple of different things, anyway."

Manuel shrugged. "I'll be called '_Empath_', since that describes my mutant abilities."

"Yeah, and also, because you're just the most empathetic guy around." Santo rolled his eyes.

Jean-Paul spoke in his low but pleasant voice. "I really don't have a preference for a name."

Santo patted him on the shoulder. "You can be '_Lucifer_'."

"Jesus Christ," Anna muttered.

"Actually, no, they're more like opposites," Santo told her. "Hey, what about you?"

A cold feeling washed over her, but she remained resolute. "I'll be '_Carbon_'. As in

'carbon copy'."

"That's a healthy attitude," Santo commented.

"Enough." Doug held up a hand. "Let's establish the plan. I've hacked into the surface of the Pro-Reg communications- "

"How?" Anna interrupted.

"Illegally," Doug replied crisply. "Now, if you would let me finish: I can let you know which Pro-Reg Nazi is going to be where, so you can avoid them. I've yet to see Ms. Marvel show up here. But what you three are going to do- " he looked at Anna, Victor, and Jean-Paul, " –is hunt around for an Anti-Reg hero and try to get some answers out of them. Ask if this Ms. Marvel is the real deal."

"Now, the thing is," he continued, "We don't actually know where to find any of the Anti-Regs. But you three can try walking around some of the battle sites from the past month, and maybe you'll come across someone. Your costume might lure them out."

"And if we don't?" Anna queried.

"Give it an hour, then report back in," Doug informed her. "I can drive in case of an emergency, and if needed, we can send Julio, Santo, and David out to help you."

"Let's move," Anna said, applying Ms. Marvel's mask across her features.

* * *

The street was eerily silent.

Of course, sirens and the other usual traffic sounds could be heard in the distance, drifting through the air till the noise reached them, but there was barely a whisper of leaves against pavement here. Anna glanced up at the street sign, which read, "_Yancy Street_". According to Doug, a bombing had taken place here not a month ago.

"This is creepy," Victor observed beside her.

Anna turned to look at him, but now he blended perfectly with the environment, and she was only able to see the outline of his profile in the dimming light.

"C'mon," she muttered. "We need to keep moving."

A blur of motion and Jean-Paul was beside them. "There seems to be a problem," he stated in a voice with a distinct absence of concern. "We may be out of range of the transceivers. I'm not picking up any noise."

"Go talk to Doug," Victor instructed him. "The Hummer is parked in the Midtown Manhattan Magnet High Schoollot."

"On my way," Jean-Paul said, the words barely leaving his mouth before his form hazed and vanished.

The two compatriots continued walking, skirting around a large crater in the middle of the street and hopping over piles of rubble. Glancing down at the ground, Anna realized that she had been walking through chalk outlines of bodies drawn by the police.

Casualties from the bombing.

She quickly stepped away from that area, swallowing a wave of nausea. They were playing for keeps, now; this was no longer some sort of game.

Suddenly, as if a warning siren had screamed through the night air, Anna glanced around, carefully scanning the dark. Something was nearby, and they were dangerous.

"What is it?" Victor whispered to her.

Anna did her best not to move her lips when she spoke. "I don't know, but don't reveal your presence unless there's a fight."

They stood still as statues for several seconds. The streetlights flickered on, leaving them blinded to the dark and only able to see what was directly beneath the pools of illumination.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

"What the hell is that?" Victor muttered.

"I don't- " Anna didn't get the chance to complete her sentence, because a giant girl emerged from the spaces between the apartment buildings, her every footstep a thump on the street.

She possessed human features, with intelligent blue eyes and blonde hair pulled back in a high ponytail. A black domino mask obscured her face, and she wore a red bodysuit with black accents. She was about twelve feet in height.

Anna's hands curled into fists. She had no idea who this chick was, but she would be damned if she was going to let-

"Carol!" The girl exclaimed, her tone delighted. Her form seemed to shrink until she was of the average height for a teenage girl, and she charged toward her.

Anna prepared to slam her fist into this girl's face, but then the girl wrapped her arms around Anna's neck . . . in a hug?

Anna's jaw dropped open in surprise. This girl (from the Young Avengers, perhaps? She looked somewhat familiar) actually had mistaken her for Carol.

The plan had worked, despite her awful dye job (Seriously, she looked like fixture at the Playboy Mansion with this hairstyle and outfit).

The girl stepped back. "But I thought you were comatose?" She said in confusion.

"And I thought the Young Avengers were against the Registration Act," Anna returned swiftly.

The girl looked troubled. Dear God, she was probably only Anna's own age. "I know. But the point of heroes is to help people, not fight the police and flee S.H.I.E.L.D.! I want to be a hero, not a fugitive. After they took Wiccan to that jail, I knew that Registration was my only option."

"I see," Anna said. "You betrayed your friends because you wanted to take the easy way out. _What a hero_." Her voice was colder than she had intended.

"Anna Marie," Victor breathed, barely a sigh on the breeze.

The giant girl was staring at her in confusion. "Carol- ?"

Anna punched her in the face. Giant-girl fell to the ground like a ragdoll.

"Anna!" Victor exclaimed.

Even Anna herself was slightly stunned by her own audacity.

But the figure on the streetlight behind her was more a concern to her than anyone else. The figure swung down from the metal pole, preparing to fight, but Anna simply grabbed the figure in a wrestler's hold."

"Anole, help me," she gritted out as the figure struggled under her grasp. It was another costumed superhero. Just her luck.

"How?" Victor questioned. He was already scanning the night for anyone else who might interfere.

"Hold her down."

"_What_?"

"Just do it." Anna clapped her palms over the figure's temples, and the hero fell still. Anna took a step back from her adversary. "A job well done."

"Well done!" Anna couldn't see Victor's face, but there was incredulity in his tone. "Anna, we've got two unconscious girls on our hands now!"

"It's '_Carbon_'," Anna corrected absently. "I wonder who she is," she said, staring down at the fallen hero. "I don't recognize her."

"Then perhaps you'll recognize me," a deep, imperious voice behind them rumbled, menace in his tone.

Anna looked at him. He was a tall, muscular man in a goldenrod bodysuit with a forest green cape that billowed out behind him. His chiseled jaw was framed by blonde hair that was nearly shoulder-length, and he hovered in the air, about ten feet off the ground.

Anna sent a disdainful glance his way. "Sorry, no. I don't really care, anyway."

With anger burning in his eyes, the hero surged forward, his fist raised, but Anna felt something inside of herself snap.

The world shifted, moving before her eyes, spinning against a sudden splash of red, then the two mingled together, creating a sea of blood washing upon a gleaming white shore. And someone was screaming, screaming, screaming with each pounding of the waves, but Anna found herself refreshed by the red sea.

The blood provided her with catharsis, renewal, and it validated her, proved her worth . . . this was finally _happiness_ . . .

"For Christ's sake, _Anna_, _stop_!"

The cry brought Anna to pause, and she realized that once again her mind had slipped into some sort of berserker rage, causing her to unleash as much force as possible upon her opponent. She stumbled back and saw that the third hero was lying on the ground, unmoving.

Victor was grasping her arm, and she gently shook him off. For a moment they merely stood, gazing at the unconscious heroes.

Victor sighed. "You get the girls, and I'll get the dude."

Anna didn't speak, but she complied. She could feel the sweat in her hair as long strands brushed across her neck.

"That guy you tried to kill was the Sentry. And the second girl you knocked out is named Araña, by the way," Victor informed her as they dropped the unconscious heroes into an empty dumpster. "Or Spider-Girl. She seems to alternate between codenames week by week. She's constantly lauded as the first Hispanic superhero, even though there have been a dozen others before her."

"Well, that's the way, isn't it?" Asked Anna, brushing off her hands. "You get some teenybopper in a glitzy costume and roller skates, and suddenly she's all special and has to be on the cover of every newspaper. You know, one reason I like that J. Jonah Jameson guy is because he's not in awe of these people just because they run around neon spandex. He isn't afraid to call them out when they're flat out wrong, or when they've made a mistake."

"And what do you think about his views on Registration?" Victor asked her as he allowed the dumpster to _clang_ shut.

"I didn't know he was involved in the Registration Act at all," Anna answered honestly.

Victor sighed. "Look, Anna, I've really tried not to be judgmental about your situation, but I can't help but wonder if your anger and aggression toward heroes stems from your rather traumatic first encounter with Ms. Marvel."

"That's ridiculous," Anna stated flatly as they emerged from the alleyway, this time entering an area that appeared to be slight more populated: loud hip-hop music reverberated through air, and a little ways ahead, several cars pulled to a halt as traffic light shifted to red.

"Is it really?" Victor persisted. "All the pieces add up. You seem to really hate heroes, you get incredibly angry when you're around them, somehow you managed to take down _the Sentry_ of all superhumans . . . seriously, this really isn't normal behavior."

His words brought Anna to pause for a moment, and she turned to face him. While she had simply laid giant-girl out, she couldn't recall if she had drained any essence from the Sentry or Araña. Had she? The filtering process went so fast, it was difficult to recall . . . but she had heard the Sentry referred to as "invulnerable" on numerous occasions, so it was hardly believable that she could take him down alone . . . of course, now she had Carol's strength, so . . . oh, forget it; this wasn't the time for self-doubt.

"Let's get this mission over with first, Anole," she told him. "We can worry about this later."

"Yes, you have a lot to worry about at the moment."

They bother turned at the sound of the voice. Beneath a streetlight a few feet over stood a nondescript blonde woman in a long tan trench coat. Her glasses glinted in the light. She began to approach them.

"Have your friend return to a visible state," she commanded.

"On whose orders, exactly?" Anna questioned coolly.

"Carlie Cooper's," the woman replied confidently, without missing a beat. "I work with the N.Y.P.D."

Anna frowned. "What's that?"

"Don't play games with me," the young woman, Cooper, said tightly. "Show me your Superhuman Registration identification."

"Why should I?" Anna asked.

"Anna . . ." Victor groaned softly, slightly returning to sight.

"What basis do you have?" Anna continued. "Have you seen me use any superhuman abilities? No? Well, that's because I don't have any superhuman abilities."

The woman withdrew a gun from her coat and leveled it at Anna. "On the authority of the New York City Police Department, I demand that you show me your Registration information!"

Anna's pulse raced, and her mouth went dry. She was invulnerable to harm, but what about Victor? She wasn't going allow this psycho to hurt one of her friends, and if fight or flight were their only options . . .

Moving rapidly, Anna grabbed Victor and urged her body to propel itself upward.

Seconds later, she and Victor were rising into the air, and the policewoman was shouting below them. Anna felt her form accelerate as she zoomed through the air, the wind whipping at her face and tousling her hair as Victor clung to her neck and tried to shout warnings to her. Knowing that they were likely to be spotted in the air, Anna aimed her body downward as Victor began yelling words of caution to her.

They were approaching the street at breakneck speed, and Anna, unsure of how to slow down or land, turned her form in the air so she hit the pavement first and Victor fell on top of her.

Her body smacked into the sidewalk, and though Anna felt the jolt of the impact, she felt none of the pain or disorientation that should have accompanied the fall. Ms. Marvel's abilities were an odd thing, indeed.

Victor crashed onto her as planned, her body cushioning the collision of his form landing on hers.

"All right?" She asked brightly.

He scowled at her, the dark expression out of place on his normally cheerful countenances. "Never do something like that again until you know how to stop," he growled.

"I'll make no promises," Anna informed him. "Besides, I was trying to help. And have you noticed that seventy-five percent of the Pro-Regs we've encountered have been blonde? I mean, no wonder they've gained such a reputation as Nazis. They're all Aryans!"

"Speaking of 'Pro-Regs'," Victor said slowly. "What happened to Jean-Paul? What if he's been captured?"

"Lucifer has been gone for a long time," Anna agreed. "Maybe he's just trying to help Cypher fix the transceivers? Weird that the communications gave out after Doug assured us they would work."

"Or maybe he's been captured." Victor shook his head, then glanced around at where they had landed: another abandoned neighborhood, the streets dented and some parts blasted completely out of the ground.

Streetlights had been twisted out of their settings, warped benches had been tossed onto the street, which was already scattered with heaps of debris. Several of the buildings were in the process of gradual collapse, with large pieces already scattered on the ground. The area was perhaps the most desolate former battle ground of the heroes Anna had seen so far.

"We need to keep moving until we can radio Cypher," Anna said, attempting to think pragmatically. She continued walking, Victor at her side. As she proceeded, she noted a narrow alleyway between two tall buildings that appeared to be stable. On an impulse, she sidled down the alley, and Victor followed.

"Stay on you guard," Victor warned her. "We don't want some other Pro-Reg leaping out at us from the shadows."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," agreed a voice from above them.

Both Anna and Victor jumped, wildly looking around while preparing for another fight.

"Relax," the voice said in an easy tone.

A figure lowered himself into their line of vision. Whoever it was held himself in an upside-down crouching position, agilely suspended from some sort of rope attached to a higher fixture. A bright costume covered his person, red and blue with a black spider embellishment upon the front chest.

"Spider-Man?" Exclaimed Victor.

"Ms. Marvel?" Spider-Man asked pointedly.

"Not really," Anna replied warily. "What do you want, exactly?" She recalled reading on the internet that Spider-Man had switched from the Pro-Registration team to Captain America's rebels, releasing an interview to the press about the Pro-Regs' tyrannical methods of enforcing the Registration Act, so he was safe for them to be around. "How did you know we were here?"

"A little birdie told me, but that's not my point. As for your initial question, I'd like to know why you're wearing the costume of one of my friends," Spider-Man said cavalierly.

"Do you still consider Ms. Marvel one of your friends?" Anna inquired skeptically. "I realize that before she was rendered comatose, you two fought for the Registration Act, but now you have completely opposite beliefs about the issue."

Spider-Man cocked his head. "Who are you, exactly, and how do you know about Carol's coma?"

_Whoops. You totally dropped the ball there._

Her stomach dropped, and heat rushed to her cheeks as if she was going to be sick. Wordlessly, she glanced at Victor, who was staring at her in dismay.

Thinking quickly, Anna replied, "I was a friend of Carol's. I knew about her identity. When I saw someone on television using her name, I wanted to find out who was stealing her superhero personality." The lie slipped off of her tongue with somewhat startling effortlessness.

Whatever Spider-Man had planned on saying was interrupted by the arrival of three other figures: two muscular men walking behind a teenager. Jean-Paul.

"Spider-Man," the first man said. He was dressed in a costume of red, white, and blue. "We got the Falcon's message. How are you managing here?"

With a sense of awe, Anna recognized his stylized American flag costume and realized that this man was Captain America, the leader of the rebels who was trying to maintain the nation's liberty for masked superheroes.

"Oh, good, J.P.," Victor said in relief. "We were beginning to worry about you."

One of the men, dressed in a dark bodysuit with a white skull on the front, was holding a large gun. "Who are these people?" He asked Spider-Man. He tilted his head at Anna. "And why is she cosplaying as Ms. Marvel?"

"I'm not a cosplayer," Anna retorted, somewhat offended. "I'm looking for answers. The Ms. Marvel who's been all over the news lately, is she legitimate?"

"Her name is Karla Sofen, she's a certified psychiatrist, self-centered to the degree of psychosis, and a remorseless serial murderer with delusions of godhood," replied the dark-suited man.

"You know, that second one sounds awfully similar to Carol," Anna commented off-handedly.

Beside her, Victor groaned. Jean-Paul looked vaguely bored.

"Excuse me, but what are you doing here?" Captain America asked Anna incredulously, glancing at Victor as well.

"Looking for answers," Anna responded levelly. "So, Carol is still comatose?"

"Yup," Spider-Man confirmed.

"Iron Man is ruling S.H.I.E.L.D. at the moment, and he decided it would be efficient to allow terrorists to play dress up as heroes. As long they agree to uphold his fascist views and hunt down people fighting for their freedom, those scum can do whatever they want to opponents of the Act," the man with the gun growled.

A feeling akin to relief and perhaps just some satisfaction settled over Anna, though she should have taken caution at the man's grim words. Carol was still unconscious; their inevitable confrontation would not occur just yet.

Captain America was not convinced. "I would really appreciate a full explanation, if you please."

Anna resisted the urge to roll her eyes: after all, as the leader of a resistance movement, the guy deserved some respect. "As I am a concerned citizen and friend of Carol's, I was disturbed to find out that someone else was using her superhero persona, so I asked my two mutant friends -" she gestured to Victor and Jean-Paul, "- to help me find out the truth."

"You and your friends willingly entered a warzone just to obtain information on Ms. Marvel?" Captain America shook his head. "How old are you? You sound awfully young."

Anna felt slighted by his remark. "I'm in high school. And Carol is an important person to me."

"You should have been more careful," the man in black snapped. He jerked a thumb at Jean-Paul, who was texting on his trendy, new cell phone. "I almost mistook this one for Pro-Reg spy."

Spider-Man suddenly went very still. "They don't need a spy. They're here themselves."

"Take cover," Captain America ordered the trio. "This isn't going to be pretty."

"I'm going to stay and fight," Anna declared. "I'm not going to allow those imbeciles to force me to betray my views."

"Us, too," Victor added.

Jean-Paul voiced his support as well: "We don't agree with the Pro-Regs, either."

"You're a fool," the man in black said brusquely to Anna, loading his gun. He, Spider-Man, and Captain America, pushed past the young trio to move forward.

"I'm also invulnerable," Anna declared, rather boldly, in her opinion, as a flare of energy hummed through the air. Rising above the ground, she outstretched her arm, turning her palm away from her body and allowed the blast to meet her hand. There was a tingle of energy against her fingers, and once again, she felt the impact, but no pain.

She smirked down at the heroes on the ground. "How's that for an amateur?"

"Watch out!" Spider-Man yelled urgently.

There was a hum of a quiet motor whizzing through the air, and then some sort of metal machine crashed into her. The impact threw her back in the air, but she quickly regained her balance.

Her assailant was none other than the invincible Iron Man, and he was taking aim for another energy blast, apparently not realizing that his previous attack did not have any effect on her. More than a little aggravated, Anna surged toward him, flying forward with her arms extended before her, hands clenched into fists. She caught his suit on the abdomen area, and as she pushed down, they both began speeding toward the pavement below.

Yells and shouts sounded from the action on the ground and out of the corners of her eyes, Anna could see flashes of multi-colored light, wielded by Iron Man's allies.

Suddenly, Iron Man jerked away from her, using some sort of motorized thruster to him a lift, pushing her toward the ground in the process. Anna managed to land on her feet, while the metal automaton spiraled off into the sky.

Before she could regain her bearings, another "hero" appeared in front of her. Blonde hair, blue eyes, smug smile, lightning bolt- Carol Danvers.

No, it was that other person who Spider-Man's allies had mentioned. The psychotic psychiatrist.

Her full lips curled upward into a self-satisfied smirk. Her blue eyes gleamed so brightly that it seemed impossible illicit substances didn't produce the vivid color.

She sauntered toward Anna, hands on her hips and shoulders thrown back, all long, bare legs and flowing blonde. "And who are you, exactly?"

"Ms. Marvel," Anna replied instantly, operating on automatic.

The other woman cocked an eyebrow. "I don't think so. That outfit doesn't belong to you, sweetheart," she purred. "I'm going to have to ask you to take it off." She chuckled at her own words.

"Does it make a difference?" Anna asked impatiently. "Neither of us is the true owner of this emblem."

"Nevertheless, you've chosen to wear it anyway," Sofen pointed out. "That . . . intrigues me. On a personal level. I wear this costume because it validates my existence. But what Ms. Marvel mean to you, precisely?"

The woman had barely finished speaking before she collapsed to the ground. Startled, Anna knelt down beside her and saw a tranquilizer dart sticking out of her right shoulder.

Someone grabbed her arm and pulled her upward; Anna twisted in the grasp to find that the man in black had slung his gun over his shoulder and was dragging both her and Jean-Paul while Victor followed them.

He glared at her. "Stopping during a battle to speak to an enemy. Is that some new technique all the cool kids are using these days?"

Anna refused to be stung by his sarcasm. "What are you- ?"

"The battlefield is no place for children," he said brusquely. He released them and pushed them forward. "Go. Get out of here. The Pro-Regs are gone for now, but Iron Man will be back any minute with reinforcements. Find sanctuary at a church and stay there for the night. The guy at St. Patrick's Cathedral would be glad to put you up." He reloaded his gun.

"Good luck," Anna said.

"Go." He brandished his gun.

They left, turning down the next alleyway and hurrying toward the shadows, hoping for cover, Victor's color fading until he blended into the night.

"Jesus Christ, we met the Punisher, Spider-Man, and Captain America," Victor said dazedly. "I can barely believe it."

"I can," came a synthesized but still recognizably male voice from the dark. Iron Man emerged from the gloom so he could be seen clearly. He might have been hoping to strike a menacing but dramatic chord, stepping out of the shadows so his armor could gleam, reflecting the overhead streetlights from several yards away, his arc reactor glowing vibrantly in the dark.

Certainly, this made a very nice picture. But Anna was done dealing with these so-called heroes; she was finished putting up with their arrogance and presumptuousness. Carol, Iron Man, the Sentry, the fake Ms. Marvel, that one blonde girl who had backstabbed her friends . . . in her mind they all blended together until they formed one indistinguishable monster that masqueraded as justice, rendering truth invalid as they applied their fascist laws to country, slowly undermining the government so they could take hold.

Her fist smashed into his armor again and again; she never touched the arc reactor because something in the back of her mind urged her to leave it alone.

Upon a single instance when her fist impacted the metal armor, the helmet shifted back, the metal altering, shifting back to allow Anna a glimpse of the Iron Man's true face.

And his face

His face

His face

No. She never saw his face. The night was dark. She could only see shadows cast over his face by the helmet. He could've been her own brother, and she wouldn't have recognized him.

Unconscious, he slumped to the ground, his metal helmet reallocating to cover his face once more. Anna turned to find her friends staring at her, Victor with a look of shock and alarm, and jean-Paul with vague perplexity, as if he were a patron at restaurant who disliked onions and was trying to remember if he had told the waitress to leave the onions off of his steak.

"We need to go," said Victor shakily.

A slight humming noise resounded through the air, and they turned to find that the noise's origin was Iron Man's suit.

"Is he still alive?" Victor questioned quietly.

"He should be," Anna replied with a shrug. "I didn't him that hard."

"Right," Victor muttered under his breath.

"I'd like to see this cathedral," Jean-Paul contributed. "I'm interested by Neo-Gothic architecture.

Victor and Anna exchanged a long look.

"You're very dangerous," Victor said wearily to Anna.

Anna sighed. "I do have potential in that area, yes."

"But you take up for people," he noted.

Anna frowned, attempting to discern the meaning of his words. "I don't really see how."

"Always the ones who can lift tanks that have the self-esteem problems," Victor observed, before walking to the alley's wall and climbing over the top.

Anna shrugged, brushing off his words for the moment, as Jean-Paul followed Victor's example, and then she did likewise.

* * *

After what seemed like endless hours of walking the streets and seeing no one outside, an eerie feeling was beginning to settle over Anna. She felt as if an impending disaster was waiting to strike, and she was very glad when they finally reached the towering marble structure, though the holy place looked somewhat ominous with its spires stretching into the sky, shadows against the stars.

Swiftly, she moved ahead of the others and gave the handle of the elaborately carved door an experimental tug, and was gratified to find that the colossal door pulled open at her grasp. She quickly motioned her friends inside.

However, as she herself entered the sacred building, a chord of dissonance struck her, as though she did not belong in the place of worship. Suddenly, she was overwhelmed by guilt, grief and despair.

Had she truly learned nothing from when she had felled Carol, unintentionally or not? What was she thinking, running around and knocking people unconscious merely because she didn't like their political views? No matter how upset she felt that didn't give her an excuse to unleash her rage upon people because they were considered acceptable targets to batter.

Had her mutation lead her to abandon any semblance of morality?

The wide entrance hall was grandiose, with high, vaulted ceilings embellished with elegant fixtures and marble floor covered by a thick plush carpet. Anna noticed a wooden placard on a stand declaring that the confessional was open for the day.

A man emerged from an engraved door and approached them; he wore a pair of dark sunglasses and moved with a sturdy cane, yet he did not appear to need it in order to balance. The notion dawned upon her that this man was blind, and Anna quickly moved to hold the heavy entrance door open for him.

"Here sir," she said, doing her best to enunciate clearly but not patronizingly, "I'll hold the door for you."

"Thank you, young lady," he replied graciously. "That's very kind of you."

"Do you know if confession is still taking place this evening?" Anna inquired.

"Father Lantom is still here," he told her. "If you hurry, you may be able to catch him."

"Thank you," Anna said.

The man turned toward and spoke clearly. "You and your friends should be careful, young lady. These are troubled times." With that, he walked to a black Lincoln Town Car that was idling in front of the cathedral.

Anna stared after him. She was so airheaded; how could she have missed the car? It was in plain sight and could have held an adversary. No wonder the Anti-Regs hadn't taken her seriously, she was more amateurish then even she herself knew.

Exhaling slowly, she shut the door and turned to find a priest, wearing a clerical collar and holding a worn King James Bible, standing a few paces away, gazing skeptically at the three of them with a raised eyebrow, eyeing Jean-Paul's tight leather outfit with undisguised distaste.

"Father Lantom?" Anna queried.

"Yes. May I help you?" He asked, his tone polite but slightly guarded.

Anna looked from Victor to Jean-Paul, but as neither of them responded, she spoke. "That depends."

"If you young people are here to cause trouble, seeking out unregistered heroes for your superiors, I must ask you to leave," he said brusquely, his shoulders tensing. "You have removed the heroes who once resided in this house of the Lord. Tandy and Tyrone were already captured and carted away to prison by your crime was nothing more than trying to eradicate the common crime from streets that you and the rest of the Avengers wouldn't bother to stop, unwilling to deign to descend from your golden palace, because it would mean you would have to interact with the lowly peasants." His face was angry, his jaw clenched.

"And as for Daredevil, no one has seen him here in months. Even Mr. Murdock, whom you just encountered, would probably know more about his whereabouts than us. Any civilian would have a better idea about where to hunt down heroes than a church, so I don't see why supposed peacekeepers must resort to harassing the religious community for answers."

"That's not why we're here," Jean-Paul said abruptly in his usual toneless voice.

Some of the tension seemed to uncoil from Father Lantom's limbs, and weariness settled over his face in its place. "What is your reason for this excursion?"

"I came here for confession," Anna said smoothly. "We could carry out the process right here if you're pressed for time."

Both of his eyebrows rose. "You would admit your sins while standing right before your friends?"

Anna shrugged. "I don't see why not. After all, they both know that nobody is perfect." She glanced at them. "Right, guys?"

"Definitely," Victor confirmed.

"Didn't quite catch that, Carbon," Jean-Paul said with an uncharacteristic smile. "I was too busy contemplating my own personal moral failings."

Father Lantom sighed. "Proceed, if you so desire."

Anna began with the Sign of the Cross. "In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit." She paused, mentally counting. "Bless me, Father for I have sinned. It has been two months since my last confession."

"If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness," Father Lantom replied. "John, chapter one, verse nine. Continue with your confession of sins, child."

"I have broken the Fourth Commandment and dishonored my parents," Anna said, thinking of the way she regarded her stepmother. "I have been disrespectful to my superiors and malicious and judgmental of those who have been kind to me," she added, thinking of how she had treated Dr. McCoy, Munroe, and Kitty Pryde. She summoned all of her courage in order to speak her next crime. "But my most heinous sin of all is my destruction of the woman who is the true owner of this uniform," she finished heavily.

Father Lantom gazed at her, his face solemn. "You killed Ms. Marvel?"

"Worse," Anna responded bitterly. "I removed the abilities that enabled her to be a superhero. I stole everything about her that made her unique, leaving her only an empty shell."

"But she's still alive?" Father Lantom inquired.

"Alive," Anna riposted. "But I reduced her to level of a human."

Father Lantom closed his eyes for several moments and then reopened them to look gravely at Anna. "As a man of the Lord, I cannot condone your behavior," he informed her heavily. "However, in my own opinion . . . God forgive me for saying this, but at times I think those heroes need to be reminded of their own humanity."

* * *

**A/N: **Is Anna too Mary-Sue for you? Same as always, just drop me a line.

Also, I know that St. Patrick's Cathedral is ridiculously big, but apparently its the main church where Cloak and Dagger hang out, and I wanted to show Anna's faith in a way that connected to the Marvel Universe, so she went there and spoke to Father Lantom. I know Lantom showed up in "Runaways", but I don't know if he was used anywhere, but there he was an ally of Cloak and Dagger's. Speaking of them, they showed on the news in the last chapter, being arrested by the fake Ms. Marvel.

I tried to get the confession stuff right, but I was just using a few Catholic friends and the internet as a resource, so apologies if I misconstrued anything.

**"Always the ones who can lift tanks that have the self-esteem problems,"** Victor observed, before walking to the alley's wall and climbing over the top.

A thousand internet cookies to anyone who can name the quote. Also, high-five if you know the "little birdie" who told Spider-Man about Anna and Victor.

"Lucifer has been gone for a long time," Anna agreed. "Maybe he's just trying to help Cypher fix the transceivers? **Weird that the communications gave out after Doug assured us they would work."**

Yeah, that is weird, isn't it, Anna? *Whistles innocently*

Lastly, Anna's solution to any problem?

Punch it. In the face. That automatically takes care of everything for you.

Any ideas or suggestions? Let me know!

Peace out!


	15. Chapter 15

Upon her return to her dorm after that evening of chaos, which mostly was, admittedly, her own fault, Anna found an envelope of a sophisticated stationary style with her name written in ornate calligraphy on the outside. Opening the envelope, she was bemused to extract a note bearing the Frost family letterhead: an invitation from Ms. Frost for afternoon tea the next day.

With a shrug, Anna slipped the paper back inside the envelope and opened the door. To her horror, she had hardly pushed the door open all the way before her eyes landed upon Kitty's bed, where she and her Hellfire Club boyfriend were lying, intertwined with one another.

Anna quickly closed the door, stomach rolling as she did so. Disgusting . . . she and that boy had been consorting on the bed . . . how unbelievably nasty . . .

Anna had no delusions about being swept up on the back of a horse by some white knight and riding off into the sunset with her perfect prince; that simply was neither realistic or practical, and certainly not what she wanted out of life. She wasn't a princess or some war prize to be won, and she wouldn't ever pretend to be in order to please someone.

Previously, she had been a person, and individual, but now she held the ability to be a warrior. She would maintain her own identity and personality, not throw it away for the closest dude who was interested.

She certainly wasn't going to be demeaned by playing the ingénue for some guy just because he thought it was hot, but if Kitty Pryde wanted to play the role of the stereotypically smitten teenage girl, that was her own prerogative. Anna was definitely not obligated to give a damn.

Anna folded her arms over her chest and waited, leaning against the opposite wall so she didn't have to listen to the soundtrack of their activities. The wait wasn't very long: Pyro/John rushed out in about twenty minutes, looking angry, with Kitty asserting her feminist attitude by running after him and apologizing, begging for him to come back, showing her backbone, per usual.

Anna entered the room without comment, locked the bathroom door, and remained under the warm spray of the shower faucet for a very long time, washing every drop of the blonde dye from her hair.

* * *

Not only did the company instill a feeling of vague discomfort in her mind, but Anna also found the afternoon tea to be very, very tedious.

The two others present were Ms. Frost, the host, and Mr. Lensherr, the one also known as "Magneto", though thus far, he had not asked Anna to use his mutant name to address him. He was a rather dapper man, perhaps in his early forties, who wore a pearl gray suit that complemented his strong build.

Though this teatime was supposed to be one the "get to know you" sort of affairs, the inclusion of the Hellfire Club's manager caused Anna to feel as if she were an object on display about to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.

Granted a brief reprieve from the conversation as Lensherr and Frost began discussing which tea had the best quality, Anna took a moment to muse upon her outfit for that occasion.

She felt as if it were too casual for this situation- a clingy, black shirt under a longer, emerald green cardigan with polished copper buttons, knee-high, royal blue suede boots worn over form-fitting white pants. She had twisted the white portion of her hair into a braid after combing the locks to one side of the part and pinned the braid against the back of her head with a vintage hair slide, but now she wondered if it would have been more adult to just style her hair into an updo.

"Tell me, Anna," Lensherr addressed her blithely. "How does it feel to be one of the two only girls at a school for teenage boys?"

_'For teenage boys'? I hadn't realized this place was integrating its student body_, Anna thought incredulously. Outwardly, she smiled politely. "My attention is focused on my studies, not ogling my classmates. People can be so very banal. As a result, my interest lies with ideas rather than personal interaction."

Lensherr's eyebrows rose. "I see. And there is absolutely no one at this school who captures your interest?"

Briefly, Anna's mind flashed to the enigma of Jean-Paul and Quicksilver's relationship, Manuel's oddly deep-seated loathing of Kitty Pryde, Julio's willingness to drive all of them into a potential battleground seemingly with no regard to himself, Kurt's instant aversion to her, and Victor's dissection of her actions the previous night. "Perhaps I should clarify. People interest me, but on the level a scientist is interested in his study. I have no desire to interact with them beyond what the experiment requires."

Lensherr blinked several times at her statement, and Frost disguised a smirk by taking a sip of her drink from her gold-rimmed teacup.

"I see you're wearing the necklace I gave you," Frost commented, drawing Anna's attention back her. "The design suits you." Frost herself wore a simple white sheath dress and looked as elegant as ever.

Ann resisted the instinctive urge to reach up and fiddle with the pendant. "Thank you," she managed gracefully.

"I favor diamonds," Frost continued. "Personally, I believe it takes class and strength to wear them properly. One must be born with the capability for the jewel; it's not something they can earn. Diamonds must be akin to the person sporting: cold, self-centered, their own best friend." Her intense, glacial gaze was riveted on Anna's eyes, a gold eyebrow impertinently arched ever so slightly.

"Speaking of friends," Lensherr began jovially, seemingly unwittingly dissipating the tense moment between the two women, "how are you and Kitty Pryde getting along?"

That was certainly not a question Anna wanted to answer, but luckily Frost responded for her.

"Really, Erik," she admonished. "Is it obligatory that Anna must form a friendship with your prized student?"

"As the only two girls in a school populated by boys, I would imagine they'd be fast friends," Erik replied, his voice mostly jocular, but a hint of annoyance lurking in the undercurrent.

"Actually," Anna hassled to say, not desiring to be caught in the middle of a verbal battle, "I haven't had the chance to really hang out much with Kitty. I've just been so busy settling in at a new school that we've never talked, and I don't know her very well."

Erik chuckled. "Well, that can be fixed. I have no doubt that the two of you will soon be best friends, joined at the hip for every second of the day, as girls typically are."

Anna was not pleased by the notion her friendship with Kitty, or lack thereof, necessitated "fixing". Neither was Emma, so it seemed.

Unimpressed, Emma Frost arched an eyebrow. "And so they should be friends simply because they are both girls? Honestly, does Anna have no right to maintain an identity that doesn't involve her gender? I half-expect you to now insist that Anna start a romance completely absent of chemistry with some random boy she barely knows because as a teenage girl, you deem it essential for her to have a boyfriend."

She smiled very coldly, her voice smooth, calm, and superior. "Who should she select to be her designated love interest in a tedious and character-destroying romance? Remy LeBeau? Bobby Drake? Maybe one of yours, perhaps _Forge_ or maybe _Havok_?" She emphasized the "mutant names" with no small amount of sarcasm.

Lensherr appeared slightly taken aback by Frost's display of blatant antagonism, but nevertheless settled into the defensive. "For God's sake, Emma, I was merely making conversation! I'm not saying the girl must do anything for anyone."

"And yet you're here to convince her to join the Hellfire Club." Frost wasted no time in rebutting his claim. "I suspect you want her there solely due to her sexuality, so she can be objectified at the leisure of the male members."

Lensherr sputtered protests, but Frost ignored him.

"To be fully open with you, Erik, I think you feel threatened by Anna's nonconformity and independence, and you encourage her to gravitate toward that vapid shell of a young woman known as Kitty Pryde in an effort to mold Anna into a clone of her." Emma paused and sent Lensherr a very small, very icy smile. "Where would the Hellfire Club be without Kitty, its mascot and Playboy Bunny waitress?" She turned to Anna. "You're better than that, my dear. You have so much more potential than she could ever dream of."

Lensherr's tone was controlled but outraged all the same. "Emma! I will not have you deriding my student to inflate the ego of one of yours!"

"Does the truth about your token girl hurt, Erik?" Frost inquired softly, her cyanotic lips slightly apart, yet no smirk stretched her mouth upward. Rather than her usual vaguely suggestive demeanor, at the moment, she was closer in resemblance to a cobra coiled to strike.

Impatient with this argument, Anna decided that she didn't want to be around when Emma went in for the kill. She had enough to worry about without being caught in the middle of an inner-school political clash between teachers playing favorites.

"You know," Anna said quickly, "I just remembered a history report that I have to be working on. I really must go now." Not the smoothest exit, but neither of the teachers protested as she departed, instead focusing on maintain eye contact till it became ridiculously akin to a staring contest. Anna was glad to leave.

When the door shut behind her, Emma Frost aimed a cool smile at Lensherr. "We've succeeded. She's thoroughly confused now, and she doesn't trust you. All the easier for us to manipulate."

Erik shook his head. "I don't really approve of these games you play, Emma, but you certainly are talented when it comes to tipping the odds in your favor."

Frost shrugged, retaining her composure even in the common gesture. "I must say, Erik, I honestly do much prefer Anna to that Pryde girl. She appears excessively spineless."

Erik frowned at her. "I think Kitty is a valuable addition to the mutant cause.

Frost smirked. "Please. That girl? The single place where she would be a valuable addition is a threshold. As the doormat."

* * *

The heels of her boots clacked in rapid succession over the tile as Anna swiftly stalked back to her dorm room. She no desire to be caught in the midst of a few vindictive and super-powered authority figures as they snipped and hissed at one another, determined to get their favorite students ahead.

Anna shook her head and rolled her eyes in irritation as she swiped her key card through the dorm room. She had known that this school would be a waste of her time. And now warring politics of all things . . . seriously, this was the single most ineffectual educational institution she had ever seen.

Unfortunately for Anna, she entered her room only to find Kitty sobbing on the bed, her face buried into that tacky dolphin pillow.

Anna rolled her eyes again, and glancing back toward the door. Maybe she could make a quick escape and pretend she hadn't noticed Kitty.

But her roommate looked up at the sound of the door closing and spotted her.

_Oh._ Anna grimaced. This was awkward.

"Hi," Kitty said hoarsely.

Jesus. So Kitty was going to play the "hurt ingénue" role in an attempt to gain pity. Well, Anna wasn't surprised by the girl's desperate, attention-seeking methods, but she certainly wasn't going to indulge her weepy whining.

"Hi yourself," Anna greeted her noncommittally, grabbing a European shoe catalogue off her desk and flopping down on her bed, feigning interest in the page's contents. She could still feel Kitty's eyes on her, though she did her best to focus on the winter collection of leather boots.

And then Kitty began _hiccupping_.

For the first few minutes, Anna ignored her. But when the girl absolutely couldn't seem to manage to remain quiet, Anna threw down her magazine and sent a direct glance at Kitty.

The other girl offered her a watery smile. "Sorry. I'm just really upset." Her shook with suppressed tears as she spoke.

Anna was deeply annoyed and rendered rather uncomfortable by Kitty's open display of emotion. She herself had learned at a young age to bury her true feelings and put on an outwardly cool, confident front. But perhaps these northern schools had a different way of raising girls.

Ultimately, Anna decided to talk to Kitty about her tears. Maybe if she listened for a few minutes, the girl would actually be quiet.

Anna resolved to be patient with Kitty when conversing with her, unless the girl was crying over some loser guy. At that point, Anna would just get up and leave in order to stop herself from knocking some sense into her dim-witted roommate.

Taking a deep breath, Anna did her best to form an expression of care and concern, or at the very least, vague thoughtfulness on her face and moderated her voice so it was low and somewhat kind. "Hey Kitty, are you okay?"

Kitty looked at her tearfully, and Anna put much effort into fixing her "caring" expression onto her face.

"Yeah," Kitty said. "I'm just kind of down, you know?"

"Do you want to talk?" Anna tried.

Kitty nodded. "It's just that I want to be friends with everyone here. I hang out with the Hellfire Club and all that, but I really do want to try to make friends with the other students."

_And I'm astounded by your efforts_. Anna mentally rolled her eyes, wondering why she had offered to listen to the silly troubles of a particularly vapid teenage girl.

"But the Hellfire Club wants me to stick with them twenty-four seven," Kitty went on. "I love them, and they're my friends, but I'm not sure how to tell them that I'd like to try hanging out with some other people for a change."

_You could start by getting a spinal implant, _Anna offered insincerely.

"And Pyro gets so upset with me," Kitty continued. "I don't want to disappoint him. I mean, he's my boyfriend."

Anna gritted her teeth. _Don't get angry, it's not your problem, _she told herself_. Just let her talk_ . . .

"Last night when you walked in on us making out, Pyro freaked out and left the room because I told him that I wanted to hang out with Kurt tomorrow." Kitty's fingers plucked at her bedspread. "I would do anything for Pyro, but sometimes I just want time to do my thing." She sighed. "And he even tells me what clothes to wear on the weekends. Sometimes it seems as if he just wants to control me to show his own power. I'm not comfortable with that."

"Maybe you should break up with him," Anna suggested.

Kitty looked scandalized. "I can't do that! I love Pyro!"

"Really," Anna said skeptically. "Well, have you thought that maybe you shouldn't? He seems to act as if he wants to control you at all times. That's not healthy for you or him, and it's a terrible foundation for a relationship. You should set some boundaries if you want him to respect you." _If that's possible_, she added silently.

Anger surged into Kitty's tone. "You should mind your own business!"

Seriously? She had allowed Kitty to cry on her shoulder about the big bad boyfriend, and now she was defending him? This was beyond pathetic. "Hey, it becomes my business when you two start sitting in my room with your tongues shoved down each other's throats, or if you start moaning about your relationship problems," Anna informed her caustically. "If you didn't want to talk about this, you didn't have to. Either suck it up, or spit it out." She mockingly incorporated a ridiculous Southern twang into her voice, stressing certain phonetics of the words. "B_u_t what c_a_n _A_h s_ay_? It's y_our_ _ow_n ch_oi_ce, _sugah_."

"You think you're so much better than everyone else!" Kitty stormed. "You act like this school is beneath you! You know what, Anna? You're just a cold bitch!"

Anna was duly unimpressed. "Yeah, that may very well be, depending on what level of misogyny you subscribe to. But let me tell you something, Kitty: I may be a cold bitch, but at least I have the spine and the self-respect that comes with it."

Anna was momentarily stunned by her own words, spoken clearly and coldly. But when she saw the surprise and hurt form on Kitty's face, she couldn't resist the dark temptation to twist the proverbial knife somewhat deeper. "Hey Kitty? There was one reason why you were invited into the Hellfire Club, and it wasn't because your mutation was particularly useful or remotely special. Your gender assured you a place in your group of supposed 'friends'. You're only there for sex appeal, nothing else."

"But let's face it, you don't really have anything noteworthy in that department, either."

_Whoa_. Anna was shocked by her own cruelty and unwillingness to allow the situation to die, instead exacerbating it. She added lamely: "So you don't have any right act better than others just because you're in the Hellfire Club." But at that point, it was too late to justify her callous remark.

"So, you think my mutation is useless?" Kitty seethed.

If memory served, Anna wasn't aware of the nature of Kitty's mutation. But then, how bad could it be?

Kitty charged at her, and Anna automatically shifted into a fighting stance. In an uncommon show of charity, Anna decided to let Kitty throw the first punch; it wouldn't be faired of her, who possessed Carol's combat skills and military training, to beat up some girl who was only an amateur.

But Kitty didn't hit Rogue. In fact, she never established physical contact.

Kitty passed right through Rogue. Her body just slipped over hers, as if she were a ghost of some sort.

The moment Kitty returned to a solid state, having completely passed through Anna so that she now stood behind her, the other attempted to attack Anna, obviously trying to strike her opponent's back.

But Ms. Marvel had been no fool. Anna could sense Kitty's mode of combat, and she was aware the instant Kitty resumed tangibility; she also could perceive the twisting of Kitty's body as the girl raised her leg for a high kick across Anna's back, undoubtedly in. an attempt to knock her to the ground.

Whirling around, Anna ducked low, then rose and caught Kitty's ankle, pushing her to the ground. Kitty's body became insubstantial once more, this time reaching toward Anna's neck. As the girl returned to normal density, Anna blocked her hands and grabbed one of them, using her mutation to disorient the other girl as her skin slammed against Kitty's fingers.

But something went wrong.

An overwhelming sense of panic and confusion flooded Anna's mind as she was blasted by unfamiliar memories. At first, they appeared to be hazy recollections all about Kitty Pryde: her family, her school, the taste of her favorite foods, working in a restaurant . . . but those memories seemed to dissolve, giving way to other remembrances, a few of which were blurry and fragmented, yet still felt more accurate than anything to do with Kitty Pryde.

Speaking of Kitty, the other girl was shrieking and crying over something. Or was she?

The memories were rushing toward her now: a facility, white walls, bright lights, gleaming steel, words repeated over and over until they became thoughts, gazing at Kitty's face, gazing into a pair of glacier blue eyes-

Dizziness overcame Anna and nausea turned her stomach as dissonance wrapped around her; the sheer wrongness sickened her, living someone else's life while they were locked away-

The dreams of imprisonment, the voice in her head: all of it made sense now, like the child's game of connect-the-dots.

Opening her eyes, Anna stared at the girl whom she had once believed to be Kitty Pryde. She could feel the bile in her stomach rising, she knew she was going to be sick at any moment. "Who are you?" She choked out.

The girl who was not Kitty stared at her blankly for several seconds, and then her eyes dilated. "I don't- I can't- I'm not- " she seemed to sway and her eyes rolled back into her head. "I'm not Kitty Pryde," she managed. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm Vanessa. My name is Vanessa Carlysle."

Anna watched her in shock.

"I will never be Kitty Pryde." The girl stood awkwardly, her limbs shaky, and walked past Anna, toward the wall. Her body _changed form_: she became taller, her hair lengthened and darkened to black, and she passed straight through the window to the outside world.

Reality slipped away from Anna.

Kitty Pryde was not her roommate. The girl masquerading as Kitty Pryde had been a woman named Vanessa Carlysle; judging from her memories, she had been brainwashed into believing she was Kitty Pryde.

The true Kitty Pryde was incarcerated at a scientific research facility financed by Stark Industries.

Anna could hear voice in her head on occasion but mostly in her dreams.

Promptly, Anna rushed into the bathroom to regurgitate her afternoon tea and scones.

* * *

She found Victor in the library, of all places, working on a French assignment with Shola. For a moment she wondered why the library was one of his frequent haunts, but she dismissed the question from her mind; it was unimportant to the current situation.

"What's wrong?" Shola asked her instantly, while she was yet several feet away from their table.

"My roommate was an imposter, and the real Kitty Pryde is unwillingly interned at a science center for mutant experimentation," Anna informed them flatly. "We need to rescue her, and I don't think I can do it alone. If I remember . . ." she trailed off, wondering; why did she recall the facility so clearly? " –the security measures will take me down before I can do anything. Stark Industries created the defenses."

They both stared at her.

Shola blinked. "Jesus Christ. I looked into your mind for a minute. You're not joking."

"No," Anna confirmed.

Victor turned to Shola. "Get everybody together, and have them meet in Storage Room B. We need to make a plan." He turned to Anna. "Should we leave tonight?"

"Yes," Anna said unhesitatingly. "Kitty is fading. I remember that."

Victor looked at her steadily. "How . . . ?"

"I don't know," Anna admitted. She rose determinedly. "I'll be back in a few minutes. This is hero stuff, and Ms. Marvel is the best person for the job."

"Anna," Victor called, momentarily halting her.

She paused.

He looked at her seriously. "This time, we all need to work as a team. No more senselessly attacking people."

Automatically, Anna prepared to tell him off, but then she nodded. "All right."

She walked briskly from the library.

Emma Frost watched her leave and smiled, victory visible on her coldly beautiful face.


	16. Chapter 16

Voices.

Not so clear now.

Voices were fading. She could barely register the thought, let alone the individual words spoken, though they were hardly far away from her.

She failed to even recognize the voices' tone.

The surface above the water was farther away than ever now, or maybe it just seemed so because she no longer had the energy to try to swim upwards and break through the water.

She was tired. Exhausted. She was overwhelmed with the strangest sensation for a single moment, as if she were drifting away.

Voices rose urgently, and abruptly, she crashed down, back to her cage that she could not see, the impact jarring her skull, causing her teeth to click.

She was still.

So easy to just stay there and fade into darkness. But another voice, stronger than the ones nearby, echoed in her head, as if there was a muted audio feed filtering into her brain.

_"Who are you?"_

She was a girl with a family. A home. A safe place, away from here.

_" . . . the real Kitty Pryde . . ."_

The words flowed, stirring a trigger in the back of her mind, but she didn't know why she had to think. Fog clouded her brain, and she floated just off the shore of consciousness. There was something beyond these walls, that she knew, that she couldn't forget.

She had to leave.

Soon.

And yet there was another mystery, locked away within the walls, that brought her to stay, not just physically, and urged her to remain and attempt to focus on the voice in her head. This instinct, unfounded as it was, seemed trustworthy.

The lights burned down onto her from the bright ceiling, reflecting against the white walls.

A Stark Industries company truck passed through the walls, rolling right on by, before vanishing again.

* * *

Anna hurriedly proceeded to the storage rooms, which were located down a brief staircase at the end of a long hallway nearby the cafeteria, not quite on the ground floor level yet not in the basement. Wasting no time, she pushed open the door to find that all of her potential allies had already assembled: Scott, Victor, Santo, Manuel, Jean-Paul, Kurt, Jono, Remy, David, Julio, Doug, and Shola.

"Thanks for coming." She nodded at Victor. "Have you told them everything?"

"They know that Kitty is in danger," Victor said.

"Is there something else?" Manuel asked, his sharp eyes watching the exchange between Victor and Anna.

Taking a deep breath, Anna told them the truth: "The Kitty Pryde we knew was an imposter and the actual Kitty is imprisoned at a scientist facility funded by the Pro-Registration sponsor and advocate, Tony Stark."

Silence. And then-

"Is this a joke?" Scott queried skeptically.

"It's not," Shola confirmed. "I'm reading her mind right now, and she's telling the truth."

"I'm going to rescue her," Anna declared. "But I'm going to need some help, especially with all of the Pro-Regs in Stark's pocket."

"I'm in," Victor said.

"Me, too." Jean-Paul was resolute.

"And me," Santo added.

A chorus of agreement rose from the remainder of Anna's classmates. But then, the door to the storage room swung open. All eyes landed on the entryway, where Pyro and Mr. Logan's T.A. stood.

"We're in, too," the T.A. stated boldly.

"And you are?" Anna asked bluntly. She had forgotten the girl's name.

"Paige Guthrie, at your service." She scanned the rest of the room. "Wow, looks like you've got an entire party here."

"Yeah, okay." Unamused, Anna turned to Pyro. "And you?"

He removed his tinted glasses from his face, expression sober. "We heard David and Doug talking about meeting here because Kitty was in trouble. I wanted to figure out what was going on, and so did Paige, and here we are."

Victor came to stand beside Anna. "What do you think?" He asked her in an undertone.

"Let's see," Anna muttered, then directed her next words at Paige and Pyro. "What can you two do that would be useful to us?"

Pyro withdrew a Bic lighter from his pocket and flipped open the cap. A small tongue of flame flared, then expanded into an animated dragon, flapping its wings and exhaling bursts of fire. "I can control fire, though I can't generate it," he said. "I'm also immune to flame."

Anna turned her expectant gaze to Paige. "And you?" _Origami?_

Paige dug the fingers of her left hand into her right arm, and then to Anna's shock and brief horror, tore the skin away. But there was no blood, Anna realized, startled, only the dull gray of tarnished iron beneath her flesh.

"I can rip away my skin to become any organic substance," Paige informed them proudly. "Diamond, iron, rubber, wood, steel- even glass."

"That could be helpful," Victor noted.

"I suppose," Anna conceded unenthusiastically.

"Speaking of 'useless,'" Scott injected, "if we're going on a rescue mission, why did you decide to bleach your hair of all things?" He studied her for a moment. "And apparently, you also took the time to dye your eyebrows." There was no small amount of disdain in his voice.

Anna held her head high, ignoring her rising impatience and the tension twisting in stomach. "First, it's just dye, and I actually did this to gain trust of the facility's staff once we get there," she stated calmly. She had dyed her hair and donned her imitation of Ms. Marvel's uniform, worn under loose sweats, in hopes of a disguise. Admittedly, there had also been somewhat of a twisted compulsion encouraging her to play dress-up as the famed superheroine again, but Anna was unwilling to explore that urge at the moment.

"How?" Scott inquired skeptically. "She's gone. The Pro-Regs have been crying foul over the attack on Ms. Marvel for over a month now! They think a Anti-Reg took her out!"

"Hypocrites," Shola said viciously. "I saw a Youtube clip of Spider-Man's interview to the press. They've been throwing people into prison without any hope of trial. If they live in glass houses shouldn't be throwing stones at other people by calling them 'underhanded.'"

"We don't have time to argue over this," Victor cut in, frowning at Scott and Anna. "The teachers have all been called to an emergency meeting, but there's no telling when they might adjourn. We need to leave, fast."

Scott gazed at at Anna; though his jaw was set, it was almost impossible to decipher his expression behind his reflective sunglasses. "If we come with you, we're not going to have our lines on the line for something as silly as hair dye. We're doing this because we care about our fellow mutants, and we're not going to see even one of them imprisoned by some Nazi scientists."

"I understand." Anna opted for the classic open and honest posture: arms slightly out, hands turned up, spine straight and tall. She needed to gain their trust if she was ever going to accomplish what she hoped.

"Good," Scott said, despite his tone, which did not sound completely convinced.

"Now that your little spat is finished," Santo interposed with some annoyance, "how 'bout we make a plan?"

"Any thoughts, Victor?" Anna looked at the most organized of her allies.

"This is an offensive attack," he strategized. "We're going to need abilities aimed toward force out there, maybe with a little stealth for infiltration, to open up the doors and let the heavy hitters inside."

"Good thinking," Anna commented with a firm nod.

"But we should keep a unit here as well," he continued. "If needed, that group can help out the X-Men if anyone dangerous tracks us back here."

Anna's stomach flip-flopped: she hadn't considered that danger. But she had to remain calm and show her friends that she was a leader capable of bringing them in and out of the mission safely.

"All right," she projected her tone confidently. "Doug, we're definitely going to need you on communications."

He nodded. "Got it. I'll go with you, but I'll set up safely elsewhere and act as the middle man, transferring communications between there and here."

"Santo, Jean-Paul, and Victor, I'll need you three with me," Anna continued.

Jean-Paul glanced at Manuel. "I think you should stay here. If there's panic at the school for any reason, you can manipulate their emotions and calm them. I know it seems trivial, but it could actually save lives."

Anna started. She hadn't been aware that Manuel could control the emotions of others.

Manuel gazed at Jean-Paul for an extra few seconds, then seemed to catch himself. "Um, yeah," he replied, some of his usual suave lacking. "Yeah, that sounds good." He smiled at Jean-Paul. "I was hoping to go with you, but . . . " he trailed off, but then looked back at Jean-Paul seriously. "You be careful, okay?"

"Sure." Jean-Paul sent a brief but genuine smile in Manuel's direction.

Anna watched their interaction in confusion for a moment, uncomprehending, but then returned to her duties. "David, I want you to work with Doug and manage communications from this end. Jono and Julio, since both of you know what's going on, I want you to stay here and defend the school if necessary. Is there anyone besides us that you trust to help us?"

"Sure," Juio responded promptly. "Rusty Collins and his friends. Josh Foley, Bobby Drake, Paras Gavaskar, and Mark Sheppard."

"If we need even more backup, there's Kevin Syndey with his blokes, Jamie Madrox, Freddie Dukes, and Hack," Jono added.

"Great, that can work," Anna affirmed. She turned to gaze at the rest of them: Paige, Pyro, Scott, Kurt, Shola, and Remy. "The rest of you are with me as well. What can we do about armor?"

"The school keeps emergency supplies in the teachers' lounge," Jean-Paul volunteered in his monotone. "I'll see what I can dig up."

"We have lucha libre masks in out club room," Pyro said, surprisingly helpful. "We could wear those to protect our identities."

"Why would the Hellfire Club have lucha masks in your meeting room?" Manuel asked incredulously.

"Doesn't matter," Anna interrupted. "Go get them, now. Who knows how to drive?"

"Me," Remy offered.

"So do I." Scott grimaced.

"Both of you, grab and SUV from the garage and bring around back A.S.A.P," Anna ordered. "You've got ten minutes to get it together, people. Move out!"

Her allies scrambled for the door, knowing that a life potentially hung in the balance. Only Manuel and Anna remained.

"Something wrong, Anna Marie?" He asked her with unexpected sincerity.

"I feel like I need another person," she muttered.

Manuel grinned. "I know just the guy."

* * *

**A/N:** I know that it's a shorter update, but I wanted to move the plot along.

I was kind of disappointed that more people weren't shocked by my plot twist in the last chapter. Was it anticipated or merely too contrived? Let me know.

Reviews are awesome, and I'll try to have another chapter posted before the end of the month.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** Welcome back, readers! Wow, it's been a long time, and I've very sorry for the delay. Unfortunately, I suffered a family emergency and then was otherwise occupied for several weeks, but I'm hoping to finish this particular fic before the summer's over.

Reviews are awesome, and concrit will always be appreciated. Anyway, onward to the actual chapter.

* * *

A charged silence filled the SUV as the ragtag group approached their destination. Everything about the night now seemed ominous, even the other cars on the highway. As her stomach twisted into knots with each appearance of another vehicle, Anna tried to occupy herself by removing and reapplying her mask several times.

"What is to be our plan of action?" Inquired the calm voice of Nehnzo.

Anna glanced at Manuel's acquaintance and Victor's friend. Native to the African country of Wakanda, Nehnzo's dark skin was accented by silvery tattoos that appeared to be formed from molten metal. With his unusual markings, shaved head, and lean body, he could have been a young monk traveling outside the monastery.

His gaze was a piercing electric blue, but Anna readily met his eyes. "Basically, we're going to rush in there, rescue Kitty, and blast anyone who tries to stop us."

A beat passed as Nehnzo absorbed this, then he said gently, "That seems less like a plan than a general outline. There is much room for error."

"I've never done a rescue mission before," Anna informed him tersely. "And I've never had to lead a team, either. I'm doing my best here." She tried her mightiest to hide the gnawing worry that something _would _go wrong with the plan. Nehnzo was right: there was room for error, and in all likelihood, they would encounter problems.

Scott interrupted them. "The exit that leads to the New York City Stark Industries plant is coming up."

"Take it," Anna instructed. "We'll see where it goes. I think that we're going in the right direction." The faint whispering in her head was almost gone, but this route did seem vaguely familiar.

Scott sighed but switched on his turning signal. "Is Remy's car still behind us?"

Kurt briefly swiveled his head to check. "Yes. They are prepared to turn as well."

The car moved up the exit ramp, climbing to the top before the road dipped down and traveled to a spider's web of roads below.

"I could use some navigational help, here," Scott called impatiently from the front seat, as the vehicle approached the network of roads.

Anna shrugged. "Take the next left, away from the highway, toward Stark Industries."

"How 'bout a little bit more confirmation?" Santo seemed skeptical.

"I'm doing the best I can," Anna responded evenly.

Though he let out a long, exasperated breath, Scott complied. As the car continued onward, Anna swiveled her head to make sure the others were still behind them.

As she settled back into her seat, she noticed a sign and felt trepidation build in her stomach at its inscription:

**Stark Industries: 0.5 miles**

Trying to remain alert to any psionic indication that they were on the desired path, Anna concentrated on her breathing, but she was distracted by the sight of the Stark Industries manufacturing plant.

The building sprawled on for nearly a block, a mass of brick and steel. Enclosed by high stone walls with wrought iron black posts protruding like spears from their settings, there was no telling what could be locked away, hidden inside.

Eighteen-wheelers passed, each emblazoned with the Stark Industries logo, carrying loads of goods to retail, putting money into the pocket of an oppressive fascist who thought that it was acceptable to imprison mutants and other superhumans.

An odd feeling of lightheadedness overcame Anna, and for a moment, she thought that she would be sick.

Then strange awareness that she experienced upon hearing Kitty's voice in her mind ebbed back, and faint incoherent mumblings of a teenage girl, perhaps in sleep, gradually registered.

"Well, Anna?" Victor was staring at her questioningly, as were the other occupants of the car besides Scott, who was driving.

Anna shut her eyes in an attempt to focus. What was she looking for?

An office building, as she faintly recalled from the dream. One across from the plant, where one could look out the window and see the Stark Industries trucks exiting the plant.

"There," Anna said, pointing, as her stomach dropped.

Her arm was outstretched in the direction of an area they were approaching: an open expanse of grass on the crest of inclined earth that was dotted with groves of trees. The open space precluded an immense brown brick house with black shutters, designed in the Federal style. Beyond the house were lines of thickly clustered trees.

"Are you sure?" Scott queried, with a hint of tension in his voice.

"I'm certain," Anna replied.

Her eyes searched out his sunglasses in the rearview mirror, but due to the reflective lens, there was doubt if Anna's gaze actually found his.

"All right." Scott steered the car into the next picnic area alongside the road, less than a mile from their destination. He parked in the back, as far away from the road as possible. The rest of the lot was completely vacant: thankfully, no other drivers saw the need to stop by a parking lot with a few scattered picnic tables at four o'clock in the afternoon.

Anna slid open the door and hopped out, tapping her foot as the other SUV pulled in next to theirs, churning up gravel beneath its powerful wheels. Before Remy had as much as shut off engine, Anna was rapping her fist on the window to get the attention of the occupants.

"We've arrived, I assume?" Doug inquired, hopping out of the van.

"Yeah," Anna responded, masking her anxiety. "That one house on the hill back there, that's the place."

"So, what's the plan?" David asked.

"I think that I should go there alone at first, to check out what kind of security they have," Anna proposed. "After all, I'm the only one of us who's completely invulnerable."

Victor shook his head. "Not a good idea. At least one other person should go with you."

"I'll go," Jean-Paul volunteered tonelessly. "If we find any trouble, I'll be able to bring help in less than ten seconds."

"David and I will be working on communications," Doug said. "Just a few more moments, and we'll have the transmitters online."

"I'll be using my telepathy to keep an open channel," Shola informed them. "If it's all clear, we'll teleport there with Kurt." He looked at his blue, furry friend. "Isn't that right?"

"I'll be ready," Kurt confirmed with a grim nod.

Anna looked at Victor. "If anything happens to us, go back to the school. Don't try to rescue us."

"Like hell- " Santo began, but Victor nodded seriously.

Anna turned to Jean-Paul. "Let's go."

His arm looped around her waist, and instantly, the world seemed to stretch before her eyes, then abruptly condense until there was only a blur of colors flashing out of the corners of her eyes. The force pulled back Anna's lips from her teeth and threw her hair into a whirl of peroxide blonde. Just when she had acclimated to the speed, they both jolted to a halt.

"We're here," he said, with the closest thing to gravity in his tone that he could probably emote.

For a moment, it was all Anna could do to stare ahead through the high fence at the house in which Kitty was imprisoned.

Here she stood, dressed in the uniform of Ms. Marvel, with bleached blonde hair and blue contacts over her eyes to match.

And yet, thanks to her, Carol Danvers was comatose, lying in a hospital bed, while she was in the outdoors, able to live and breathe without an assortment of machines and monitors to help her.

But Carol was a Pro-Reg, and Tony Stark endorsed the Pro-Regs. And he had a teenage girl locked up in a science lab against her will, as a human subject. By her allegiance with the Pro-Regs, Carol condoned this horrifying scheme, endorsing it by association.

So perhaps Carol wasn't such an innocent victim who was merely trying to make the world a better place. Maybe, just maybe, Anna had prevented some other superhuman kid from being stolen from home and strapped to an operating table.

Then again . . . Carol had been more than just a Pro-Reg agent. Even before she gained her superhuman abilities, she had been part of the military, an Air Force pilot. She had fought for her country, tried to protect its citizens even as a mere human. Anna knew that she was probably just rationalizing her own actions in order to escape the guilt of almost destroying this patriotic young woman.

Could Carol's past heroics excuse the malfeasance and inhumanity of holding a teenage girl captive for the purpose of experimentation?

Would saving Kitty's life absolve Anna for removing Carol's?

Her philosophic musing was brought to an end as her her eyes focused on a break in the black wrought-iron fence, which was occupied by a massive white slab. Upon scrutinization, the fence appeared to be pulsing with some sort of foreign energy. Cautiously, Anna approached, moving on more than just instinct: it was as though a outside force was pulling her forward.

Almost shaking with nervousness, Anna stopped before the white slab. Her masked gaze studied the smooth expanse. She reached out her hand to run her fingers across its surface . . . and to her amazement, a blue light blossomed around her palm, just as she realized that the slab was not cement, as she expected, but some type of metal.

The slab cracked down the middle and separated, the two halves swinging open to allow entrance.

Inhaling sharply, Anna turned to Jean-Paul. "I'm going in there. Go find the others. I'll make sure that the rest of the security measures are cleared for all of you."

He sent her an appraising glance, studying her long enough to induce discomfort, but then he saluted and sped off.

Before she even realized what was happening, Anna was at the front door. A loud whispering had started in her head, but the voice was speaking too fast for her to comprehend, and it merely sounded like the wind rustling through the tree leaves.

She was so deeply absorbed by focusing on the voice that she didn't notice how the second door opened, only that it did. As she sprinted through corridors lined with stark white walls, the volume of the whispering seemed to only increase. There was no longer just one voice but another as well. In spite of hazy differences, the voices were difficult to distinguish- it was like listening to two people speak very quickly at the same time: one was constantly alternating over the other, rendering individual words almost impossible to understand.

A pair of double doors loomed, and Anna hurtled through, totally absorbed in locating Kitty's whereabouts. But once she entered the hall, she stopped dead.

A figure was there: a human male. He looked just as surprised to see her, but his startled expression quickly shifted to that of anger.

"How did you get in? What are you doing here?" He demanded, stalking toward her.

Not intimidated in the least, Anna observed him with narrowed eyes.

He had been the one in the Iron Man armor that night; there was no use denying it now . The man who wanted everyone else to sacrifice their secret identities, in both of his alter egos, was actually hiding that he was a billionaire who was in the tabloids frequently for his romps with exotic dancers.

"I'm here to rescue Kitty Pryde," Anna informed him fiercely. "I won't let you stop me."

He looked at her blankly. "You're here to . . . rescue someone?"

"Don't pretend as like you don't know." Anna glared at him. "You've been keeping her at this research facility as a mutant test subject."

Stark stared at her in what seemed to be genuine puzzlement. "Young lady, I honestly don't understand what you're talking about. This building is the headquarters for the Friends of Humanity, a pro-human scientific research group that's trying to maintain a place for the everyday person during a time in which the world seems to be overtaken by superhumans, metahumans, aliens, and mutants.

"As a sponsor of the Superhuman Registration Act, I'm coordinating with them to assure that they understand that we're not like those shadowy vigilantes who are defying the law- we're _responsible_, _we_ care about everyday civilians." His last words seemed slightly smug, but Anna supposed he did change the course of history through his efforts of encouraging the Act.

"So far, the Superhuman Registration Act only applies to New York City," Anna told him. "Captain America won't let it expand elsewhere."

Stark's face hardened. "Captain America is a vigilante and therefore a criminal- "

"He's ten times the hero you'll ever be," Anna stated flatly.

"And what about _you_?" Stark's voice was harsh. "Wearing the uniform of one of my closest friends- if that isn't _brazen_ disrespect to Ms. Marvel's legacy- "

"Considering that Sofen chick who's wearing the same emblem, who is supposedly a remorseless murderer, I like to think that I'm the better person to carry on Carol's legacy." Anna looked at Stark directly. "Then, maybe Sofen and Danvers are more alike than we think."

Stark sputtered in outrage. "Do you have any idea of the courageous woman you're insulting, you arrogant- "

Anna chose to voice her suspicions. "Carol was the Pro-Reg representative to the Friends of Humanity before you, wasn't she? But since she's comatose, you had to take over her duties. You weren't always familiar with this place, you only began to check it out recently."

Stark sent her a cold glance. "What of it?"

"If you don't know everything that's taking place here, then you wouldn't know about the mutant test subject, Kitty Pryde. She's been here since the start of the school year."

Stark gave her a look clearly communicating that he suspected her of using hallucinogins. "Young lady, I don't know where you're getting this information, but I must say that these accusations are ridiculous. Yes, research on the mutant gene does occur here, but I would never allow a living subject to be a part of any science experiment."

His voice was forcibly tuned out as the whispering in her mind escalated to muttering. "Kitty Pryde is here. And I can prove it."

Moving swiftly down the corridor, Anna took several corners, ignoring Tony Stark's calls for her to stop. A dead end approached, just another white wall.

_Keep going_, a faint voice in her mind urged.

Anna didn't slow down, but instead of colliding with the wall, her body phased _through _the wall.

Bright spots danced across her vision as she passed through solid matter as though she were a ghost, her knees hitting the firm ground on the other side. The voices in her head screamed in agony as a high-pitch squealing akin to microphone feedback screeched, piercing her eardrums, and Anna opened her mouth, screaming with them. Heat blazed underneath her skin with the ferocity of the desert sun, but her skin seemed to be pricked with needles of bone-searing cold.

Abruptly, all was quiet.

Trembling, Anna rose, her eyes not focused due to the room tilting and whirling around her. Vaguely, in her darkening vision, she could see a bed surrounded by monitors of all sorts, currently occupied by what appeared to be a human outline.

The figure bore more of a resemblance to Kitty Pryde with each nearing step. Anna stumbled forward, outstretching her hand to lightly tap the girl, just to ascertain that she was an actual person instead of a mirage or illusion. She was rewarded with the tactile perception of feverish skin. Despite Anna's gentle nudges, the girl- Kitty -didn't so much as stir; thankfully, her heart rate and breathing were both strong and steady.

The world was swaying around Anna as she disconnected the monitors, trying to formulate a plan. She had definitely been weakened by whatever substance had been in the wall. There was no guarantee that she would be able to make through again, and now Kitty was at risk as well.

A grim smile curled Anna's glossed lips, exposing her teeth in a rather wolfish manner.

Time to do what she did best.

As Anna lined herself up to charge at the wall, summoning every last ounce of Ms. Marvel's abilities, a nebulous memory floated just outside of her grasp- the idea that she would be unstoppable once she started moving, that she would crash through wall after wall after wall thanks to all of her momentum- and she would emerge unharmed, as she was invulnerable. Now, if only she could recall that sensation- she knew she was invulnerable, but this time she was unstoppable-

purple nail polish- she didn't remember when or where-

her shoes that she had bought alone, but she remembered purchasing with a faceless friend-

Doug seemed so familiar, as if she recognized his mannerisms-

and Raven had told her-

unstoppable, invulnerable-

nail polish-

Doug had known about Ms. Marvel before she had told anyone-

unstoppable-

The metal shattered around her as she flew through the wall and practically landed flat on her face, debris cascading about her. The power coursing in her veins faded as suddenly as it had surged forth.

Undeterred but reeling from the impact, Anna climbed to her feet.

"She's there, Stark," she said urgently. "Just like I told you. These Friends of Humanity people- they've been pulling one over on you- " she broke off, staring in astonishment.

Stark was still in the blank, white corridor, but he wasn't alone. Standing over the man's crumpled form was none other than John Allerdyce.

"Pyro, what's going on?" Anna demanded. "You shouldn't have attacked him- you should've waited for me- "

"Sorry, sheila," he said with a thick Australian accent that she'd never heard prior to that point. "But I'm not operating on your orders."

Confusion settled over Anna. "You're working for someone? Is it Magneto?"

"Hardly," said a cold, aristocratic voice as its owner moved from around the corner, into Anna's direct line of vision.

Anna was rendered speechless by the person's identity and could only lock onto glacier blue gaze in hope of gaining some clarity.

"Hello, my darling Anna," Emma Frost purred.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, I know that in the comics, the Superhero Registration Act was nationwide, but here it's focused on New York City and threatening to expand across the country. Yes, it's a creative liberty, but it's hardly the first of this story. :)

Also, I tried to humanize Tony Stark somewhat from his cartoonishly evil appearance in Chapter Ten. How good of a job did I do?


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** I'm back with a new chapter!

However, this is certainly a "Dumbledore Explains It All" kind of chapter, similar to how Dumbledore would explain the significance of each event in the book at the end of the first five and last one of the Harry Potter books (despite being dead during the time of the latter). So, this chapter is very heavy on the exposition, but questions are answered at long last.

If there's any aspect of this chapter that confused you, please let me know and I'll my best to clarify. Also, if there's any remaining unanswered questions that weren't addressed in this chapter, please contact me.

Onward!

* * *

Sauntering toward her, clad in what basically amounted to a gleaming white bikini and thigh-high boots, Emma Frost wore the complacent smile of a great cat as it prepared to devour its prey.

For several moments, Anna couldn't so much as process what was taking place. Then she sent a quizzical glance at Frost.

"Are you here to help us, Ms. Frost?" Anna's mind was racing for an explanation. "You didn't need to neutralize Stark. I don't think that he would've impaired us- he didn't even seem to realize that Kitty was trapped here- "

Emma's smile widened, as she stopped, her face perhaps within three inches of Anna's. Puzzled, Anna was unable to tear her gaze away from Frost's glacier blue eyes, which were glinting with intensity and self-satisfaction.

In that moment, Anna knew that Frost had not arrived to aid their group. Searching the woman's gaze, Anna could only find cold amusement that set her on edge. An icy knot of dread formed in her stomach as no warmth whatsoever melted the smug expression that had overtaken Frost's aristocratic features. Her devious blue eyes seemed to burn into Anna's green haze, and Anna suddenly felt as though her feet had risen off the ground and her body was lifting into the air.

The white walls around Anna were abruptly marred with slats of black that expanded till darkness dominated the hall. For several seconds, as Anna's breath caught in her throat, she had the strangest sensation that she was floating away . . .

Emma, Pyro, and the unconscious Tony Stark faded from as Anna was surrounded by black. The sudden transition was jarring, but she found that she could still clearly see herself; she was able to look over her form as though she were standing in a pool of sunlight. She felt oddly weightless, and though there didn't seem to be solid ground under her feet, she was easily standing steadily.

There was a shimmering brightness, then a diagonal cone of light emerged, similar to a spotlight. Another second or so passed before Emma Frost appeared within the moderately sized circle of illumination.

"What's going on?" Anna demanded, trying valiantly to suppress her fear at the unexpected turn of events. "Where am I?"

"An astral plane," Emma responded calmly. "I thought it would be simpler to speak to you on a psionic level rather than physical. If Mystique has trained you so well that you're capable of felling the Sentry, I'm much more comfortable here."

"Do I have a reason to attack you? Are you planning on bringing harm to me or my friends?" Anna knew that she was asking foolish and naive questions, but she struggled to rationalize: her mind felt as though it was clouding over.

Frost strolled closer and leaned so her cheek was pressed against Anna's. Tender lips tickled Anna's ear as Frost spoke, her voice dangerously soft. "I don't wish to bring you harm, my darling Anna. I wish to bring you . . . knowledge. The truth about why you're at Xavier's Academy."

"What?" The air suddenly became too thin for Anna to breathe; it was as though oxygen escaped from her windpipe when she attempted to inhale. "I'm at the Academy because my mutation surfaced and nearly killed Ms. Marvel. My aunt wants me to learn how to control my abilities- "

"Not so," Frost said serenely. "You're here as an undercover agent for the Brotherhood of Mutants."

For a moment, Anna froze, staring in incredulity, but then a laugh burbled from her throat, sounding oddly desperate even to her own ears. "That's ridiculous! If I was an undercover agent, wouldn't I remember it?"

"Look at your fingernails, darling," Frost told her conversationally.

Heart increasing in tempo, Anna raised her hands, inexplicable trepidation rising inside her. Her nails had been painted with purple polish that remained despite weeks passing; the chips and nicks that speckled the coating indicated the amount of time since the last touch-up, which had taken place before she arrived at Xavier's Academy. But now, the shiny lacquer that covered her fingernails was blemished and blackened.

Frost arched a delicate eyebrow. "Do you remember painting your fingernails, Anna? No? Well then, surely you remember dropping by the security room in this building and disabling all of the defense mechanisms? You pulled some of the wires straight out the walls- you would have been electrocuted if it hadn't been for your invulnerability. As it is, since the decoration on your nails doesn't have the same resiliency as the rest of your body, the polish became somewhat charred during the process."

She couldn't speak: Anna's jaw was locked shut.

"The reason you don't remember painting your nails, darling, is because you did so while you were at the Brotherhood base, and Raven wiped every detail of the Brotherhood from your mind. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me begin at the beginning."

Briefly, Anna closed her eyes, trying to ward off a sensation of nausea churning in her stomach. She wanted to summon the energy to protest, to call Frost's words lies, but at the moment it was all she could to remain upright. Gravity wanted to drag her down to the floor.

"As you recollect, you visited New York City while with your aunt Raven during the last weekend of September. Raven claimed that it was for her government position, but in truth, I was meeting Raven for a discussion about the groups we were working with. Raven had the Brotherhood, and I am involved with the Mutant Liberation Front, organized and led by Gene and Alice Hayes. I was giving the locations of Sentinel manufacturing sites to Raven so that her forces could destroy them. Unfortunately, you unexpectedly returned to the hotel room during our conference, and your mutation activated just as you stumbled and collided with me."

"That never happened -" Anna argued weakly, but Frost cut her off.

"You don't remember because Raven ordered one of the Brotherhood, a telepath, to wipe your memory."

"Not true," Anna gasped, trying to breathe regularly. Her head was swimming; she thought she would collapse at any moment.

"Then why are there holes in your memory?" Frost queried rhetorically. "Why do you have shoes that fit your taste exactly, but you don't recall buying? I'll tell you: those items were purchased while you were out shopping with Lorna and Wanda, friends of yours from the Brotherhood."

Stunned into silence, Anna could only gaze at her in mounting alarm as she realized the accuracy of Frost's words.

"Though our contact was very brief, and you only gained a fraction of my consciousness, due to the circumstances of your mutation, several of my thoughts, instincts, and skills were transferred to you," Frost continued. "Of course, I immediately attempted to expunge the fragments of my mind from yours. But you must have automatically utilized the telepathy you gleaned from me to shield those pieces from me. At the time, I was unaware of this."

Anna closed her eyes, swaying dizzily. She could feel sweat matting her hair and moistening her palms. An odd feeling had taken root within her.

"You embodied my goals, my convictions," Frost went on. "You espoused my mission as your own. And my mission was to break into the headquarters of the Friends of Humanity and free the captured Emma Frost."

Riddled with shock, Anna snapped her gaze up to the woman's icy eyes. "What are you talking about? You're Emma Frost!"

"Not so," the woman said unceremoniously. "I am a clone of Frost. Along with others, I was created by scientists affiliated with the Friends of Humanity. I have Frost's abilities and appearance, as do my clone sisters. In my dreams each night, I can hear them calling me, begging me to find them and free them." The woman who was not Frost stared past Anna, her eyes focused but unseeing, haunted despite their gelid elements.

"Emma Frost had been captured weeks earlier. She and I had been in contact; she was attempting to locate the remaining clones of her. In tribute to Emma, I assumed her place at Xavier's Academy and sojourned off with the redheaded telepath calling herself Jean Grey. She was too distracted to know the difference. Emma was scheduled to attend conferences and meetings with government officials concerning the status of mutants in society, and that's what I did. But I managed to cajole and wrangle information about the Sentinel Project, which I handed over to your aunt so she could send her strike teams and destroy any progress in the robots' construction."

"At an interlude in our journey, I met with your aunt, as I've already mentioned. My encounter with you and our skin-against-skin contact seemed to trigger a psionic connection between us, because when I forced my way into the base of the Friends of Humanity, you followed my lead, arriving shortly after I did, my thoughts and instincts undoubtedly encouraging you to do so."

As she listened to the clone's words, Anna could sense her strength returning to her, rejuvenating her. She imagined healing blue veins of energy bleeding into her muscles, restoring her will and endurance.

"Regrettably, your stealth prowess isn't on par with mine." Frost's clone seemed far from finished with her explanation. "You triggered an alarm, alerting Stark's team of heroes who supported the Friends of Humanity to our presence. Ms. Marvel soon joined us, but not before you found Kitty."

"Not many of the interrogation techniques conducted by the Friends of Humanity had an effect on Emma, but they were able to extract information about Xavier's Academy and its latest potential student: Kitty Pryde. They kidnapped her in a matter of hours. Their telepaths scourged her mind, absorbing every aspect of her personality, disposition, and behavior."

Despite her astonishment, anger and disgust flooded Anna as she listened to the underhanded ploys of these fascist knight templars, who were willing to do anything to crusade for the improvement of humanity's future, including kidnapping and false imprisonment of a child like Kitty Pryde.

"They then brainwashed Vanessa Carlyle, a shapeshifting mutant who was imprisoned at the start of the Superhuman Registration Act, till she was a duplicate of Kitty Pryde in both appearance and action. They placed her the Pryde home that very night. None of Kitty Pryde's family noticed the difference, and it was Vanessa Carlyle who was welcomed to Xavier's Academy." The clone was almost reciting at this point, but Anna was unable to look away from her.

"For the few moments you were with Kitty, you established a mental bond with her. It must have been my telepathic abilities that you submerged deep in the recesses of your mind. For weeks, your dreams have been Kitty's impressions of the facility. The voice whispering in your head every so often is hers. However, I did mitigate and isolate her thoughts in your mind to preserve your obliviousness."

The pieces were all falling into place, now, but instead of renewed shock, Anna was slowly being pervaded by a foreign sense of tranquility.

"When Ms. Marvel gracelessly stumbled onto the scene, she saw what she wanted to see: one of the mutant menace attacking a civilian girl. Marvel went in for the charge, and you reacted in self-defense. Unhappily for her, she discovered the true extent of your mutation as you unintentionally utilized your abilities to ravage her psyche. You left her a shell of her former self."

"I remember a supervillain attack," Anna murmured, though the conflicting accounts of past event hardly seemed to matter. She felt fresh and new, like she had just been reborn.

"More so-called 'heroes' were surging toward the facility, and in your half-crazed state, you were the only one I was able to help escape. I was forced to leave Emma and Kitty behind. I brought you back to Raven and explained what had happened." The clone kept going on, as if she hadn't heard Anna.

"I suggested that Raven send you to Xavier's Academy for training purposes. She agreed, realizing that due to your raw power, it would be difficult to effectively coach you. But she wasn't going to waste this opportunity. Like me, she already had a spy within Charles's school, but she decided to use you as a sleeper agent. She had her chief telepath hone your newfound abilities, allowing you to practice on college students, thus granting you considerable knowledge and information at your disposal. Once you had refined your talents, Raven's telepath influenced your parents and convinced them to allow you to switch schools."

"There was no supervillain attack. Your memories of nearly killing Carol after her rescue of you are false, implanted by Raven's telepath so you would feel guilt over the situation and thus make a greater effort toward developing your abilities. Moments before you entered the Xavier's Academy, Raven wiped your memory so you would be completely innocuous and Charles would suspect nothing."

Anna methodically tested her muscles, tensing, then relaxing, ascertaining that she would be steady on her feet when she made her move.

"But she didn't leave you defenseless. On her orders, the telepath embedded Carol's field skills and military training, along with Raven's physical combat capabilities, into the depths of your mind, so that you could fight on instinct, your responses reflexive and premeditated. Raven did this in order to assure that you would always have the upper hand. That's why you almost always black out during combat; your actions aren't truly your own, your body is just a marionette with someone else pulling the strings."

"Raven wasn't the only one to realize how truly useful you are." The clone proceeded in her exposition. "I became aware that your presence could also benefit me. I had Pyro, my fellow agent for the Mutant Liberation Front, keep an eye on you, and just in case, I gave you the necklace, which contains a tracking device, and telepathically encouraged you to wear it. I must say, you have an abnormally thick skull: I was beginning to think you would never don the thing. If it hadn't been for your invulnerability, I would've wrapped that chain around your neck and strangled you weeks ago."

Closing her eyes, Anna calmed by the continual, balanced pace of her pulse. She was vaguely aware that with these newfound revelations, she shouldn't be so serene, but she was unable recapture the edge of her shock and confusion.

"The fundamental security of this building may be typical, but the specialties are not." The recount of events seemed to be endless. "The walls here are constructed from a special material gained from the Kree race, also frequently used in the Breakworld. That's why Carol was in charge of security for this facility: the material reacted to her genetics."

"The matter interferes with intangibility and telepathy, hence why Emma and Kitty experienced difficulty escaping this place. However, the substance blocks neither of the abilities completely, and if a telepath is adequately prepared, then one can circumvent the obstruction. Additionally, the matter was created with the intention of only allowing Kree to enter. But several of the great minds on earth modified the material."

A plan that already had taken root in Anna's brain now began to bloom as a new thought occurred to her.

"Carol was an abnormality: she was a perfect synthesis of the human and Kree genetic template. Scientists have been struggling to replicate her genetics for years. They have achieved a sythesis, but on a small, limited scale. However, they are able to restrict the Kree genetics to certain area of the body. To enter this facility without triggering any of the alarms, an individual must have a synthesis of human and Kree genetics within their left hand. Obtaining Kree genes is nearly impossible. Only the most powerful and influential scientists of earth manage to acquire the sufficient amount- scientists such as Tony Stark, Reed Richards, and Hank Pym."

"Scientists of this facility must be regularly implanted with the adapted Kree genes- once every ten days. With the war of the Superhuman Registration, I risked capture and indefinite imprisonment in the Negative Zone if I erred on my mission- if that happened, I would be unable to help anyone. Kidnapping a scientist of this facility would prove impractical- those in authority here keep careful logs on its scientist, to the extent of hiding bugs and cameras in their residences. The moment a scientist differed from their usual schedule and didn't arrive at the routine time, there would be suspicions."

"And so you decided to use me," Anna concluded.

"Yes," the clone said unapologetically. "When you took Carol's psyche, you also somehow removed her genetics and installed them in your own pysique. I knew I would have to use this to my advantage."

"I saw your disdain for the imposter Kitty Pryde, and I encouraged it. I pitted you against her, playing on your jealousy and insecurity. When I learned of your plans for visiting New York City, I directed you to have confidence in your arrangements in hopes that you might discover the truth about Pryde. I was careful to ascertain that you would reach conclusions on your own, though, or else you might not have accepted your discoveries. Your mind is exceedingly complex, no thanks to various telepaths manipulating your memories."

"And then at our tea, I determined that your feud with the imposter Pryde was at its height. I gave you mental pushes and nudges to escalate the disdain you felt for her, in hopes leading you to a confrontation and conflict with her. I then directed your attention to the odd dreams you've been subject to, leading you to realize where the actual Kitty was, and bolstered your faith in yourself in order for you to be prepared to command a rescue mission. And once here, you would disable all of the security features, allowing the Mutant Liberation Front to overtake the facility."

"You certainly are a Machiavellian mastermind," Anna admitted.

"How flattering that my unwitting pawn compliments my intelligence," the clone returned dryly.

"One question, though." Some of the rejuvenating calm had fled, and Anna's heart was pounding. "If I'm going to admit defeat, I need to acknowledge the better opponent. What's your name?"

The clone appeared taken aback by this question, glacial blue eyes wide with surprise, which soon faded into pained longing.

"Spice," she murmured softly, and Anna was almost sure she had misheard her.

The clone looked directly into Anna's eyes. "My name is Esme," she stated with certainty.

"Good to know," Anna replied grimly.

She leapt up from the floor and launched herself at Esme, catching the clone, driving her thumb and fingers into the cheeks and clenching the woman's beautiful face with her hand.

Esme threw her fist into Anna's face, knocking her to the ground.

"Sorry, darling," she said with disdain. "The astral plane is entirely mental. Your abilities and strength don't have much of a use here. I'm the telepath here, we're just playing along to my own little game."

Anna pushed herself up off the ground. "Why would you bother telling me all of this?"

"Because you're far too trusting, my dear," the clone responded simply. "You still put Carol Danvers on a pedestal, despite knowing what she's done. She doesn't deserve your grief and guilt, let me assure you. Do you think she ever felt anything but disgust and hatred for mutants?"

"I want you to remember this encounter, but once you return to the physical plane, you'll again forget everything Raven had wiped from your memory. But you'll remember that both the Kitty Pryde and Frost you knew were imposters, and that the Friends of Humanity scientists weren't above experimenting on mutants, condoned by the Pro-Regs, including Carol Danvers."

"But one day, you'll remember what Raven has hidden from you. At first, it'll be a half-thought daydream drifting across your brain, but then all the knowledge will return to you. And perhaps then you'll understand me. I want to recreate in my own image. I don't trust anyone, not even Emma Frost. There's no reason for you to trust anyone, either."

Anna jumped at her again, grabbing a handful of her face and maintaining her grip, straining, foraging in her own consciousness.

"We might be on an astral plane, so this might not have a physical effect," Anna ground out. "But then this is just a mental thing to help me gain focus. I was able to keep Carol's abilities, so this might help me to bring your own abilities that I've stored away to the surface."

A whisper.

Then a trickle.

A surge of power from somewhere deep within her, and a torrent of raw energy flooded into Anna. The clone evanesced, though Anna was unsure of where to.

Concentrating, Anna closed her eyes as a sense of omniscience poured into her brain. Clumsily, she reached out with her mind, imagining enveloping the entire earth in a direct feed to her thoughts. In her desperation, she latched onto the first friendly name she could think of- Jean Grey. She needed to contact Jean Grey.

She was scanning, searching, whipping about wildly for just a hint of familiarity.

But this power- too much power-

_Jean Grey!_ She called desperately into the psionic abyss of minds. _JEAN GREY, WE NEED YOU!_

Any contact was abruptly severed as the surface on which she stood wobbled and shifted beneath her legs, causing her to stumble. She strained to stand again; the ground wouldn't steady, instead quivered more violently.

The astral plane was collapsing. Anna was fairly sure that she didn't want to stick around to survey the damage in the aftermath.

Distantly, Anna could hear the shouts and thuds of a battle, crackling with energy beams, but it was echoing and distorted, as though from far away.

Reaching a decision, Anna backed up several steps, then began sprinting, and took a running leap, falling into the darkness beyond.

* * *

Ripped away from her dreams, Jean Grey bolted upright in her queen-sized bed, looking about wildly. Finding her room empty beyond herself, she listened for a moment, muscles tensed, trying not to breathe too heavily.

Had it just been a dream?

When the seconds passing turned into minutes, she lay back down, trying to relax and slip back into unconsciousness.

Strange. She had been certain that someone was calling her name. And it must have been a dream, but the urgency in the other girl's tone rendered the voice far too realistic.

* * *

**A/N:** I have a new poll up on my author profile. Don't forget to check it out.

As always, feedback is teh awesomz.

**BTW:** Gene and Alice Hayes were underground mutant terrorists in the main Marvel universe, but they never had any connection to the Mutant Liberation Front. That's creative license on my part, once again.

They first appeared in a comic books series known as Runaways, which I would recommend to everyone. The Runaways book, especially the first two volumes, is a great read.


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